Break-up Advice
by Kadi219
Summary: Raydor/Flynn - Rusty's words, spoken in sarcasm have far more reaching consequences than he imagined. Sharon decides to take her own advice. Post Season 2.
1. Chapter 1

Break-up Advice

by Kadi

Rated T

Disclaimer: They're not mine, I'm simply enjoying a dip in the sandbox.

A/N: I rewatched all of _Major Crimes_ from season 1, and when I got to season 2 - Rusty's comment to Sharon about break up advice stayed with me. This is the result.

* * *

"_You__'__re still married to a guy you haven__'__t lived with in 20 years, and you__'__re giving me breakup advice right now?_"

It stayed with her, long after Rusty said it. She wondered if that was, perhaps, the reason why she had so eagerly offered to accompany Andy to his daughter's wedding. Was that the underlying cause behind why she was suddenly spending so much time with the Lieutenant? Certainly Rusty hadn't meant for it to be hurtful, he lashed out when he felt cornered. He couldn't know that his words, spoken so carelessly, would lead her to questioning every personal decision she'd made for the last twenty years of her life.

The separation was necessary, it was the cornerstone with which Sharon had started to untangle her finances from Jackson's. It kept creditors and loan sharks from coming after her for his debts, it saved her from losing the house, and made it possible for her to eventually buy a new car when hers had died. Sharon thought it would be a stop gap measure, financially, until Jackson came to his senses and got help for the gambling addiction. In those days, she thought he would eventually realize what he was losing and come home. He would be the husband and the father that his family needed.

He came home. When he needed money. When he had no where else to go, and no one would have him. Sharon had not exaggerated when she told Taylor that Jack was getting a fresh start, for the hundredth time. She couldn't even count the number of times that she let him come home, only to be disappointed again. Only to have her children disappointed again.

At some point they stopped asking what was wrong with them and realized there was something fundamentally wrong with _him_. Even Sharon had given up at some point. She let him stay with her, two nights, at least once a year, but it was pity. She felt sorry for him, and it was the man she met, the man that he was when they married that she pitied, not this creature she remained married to.

Religious reasons. Financial reasons. Things she couldn't explain.

Yes, that was all very true. Her parents had been married for sixty-some-odd years; there had not been any divorces in her family, and she was shamed at the thought of being the first. Although, at some point, enough was enough. How much of her own happiness could she sacrifice for others? Where did she draw the line. She couldn't explain why she remained married to Jackson, not even to herself, and certainly not to Rusty.

If she couldn't explain it, it begged the question, why did she?

He was never going to change. Even if he did, Sharon was never going to trust him again. There were things about her marriage that she held close to the vest, that only one or two other people knew about. Humiliating moments she would much rather forget, but which were only burned into her memory and if she was truthful with herself, better not remembered. Just one more reason why she would never really trust her husband again. That was no way to live. She would never take him back. She was a convenience for Jack. He remembered he was married only when it suited him, and only when he needed something from her.

It was a bit of the status quo of her life. Was it any surprise she was suddenly looking for a way to change that? Although, her method of doing so might have bore a little more thought. Now, Sharon was wondering if she was stuck in an even deeper rut.

Fingers, snapping just inches from her face, drew Sharon out of her thoughts. She blinked, and gave the owner a surprised look. "Hm?"

"You drifted." Gavin Baker gave his friend a long, evaluating look. His eyes narrowed slightly behind his designer glasses. She wasn't quite _in the moment_, and had the far away look she sometimes had when she was particularly bothered by something. It couldn't be a case, she never permitted her work to bother her on _that_ level, and it couldn't be the boy. Everything there appeared to be going much better now that the whole testifying business was behind them. That only left a few possibilities remaining. Gavin lifted his coffee cup and considered it's contents for the moment. "How are Rick and Shannon?"

"They're doing well." A smile played at Sharon's lips. Gavin was fishing. It was something he did when he sensed there was something wrong with her, and he didn't think she would willingly discuss it. Sharon leaned back in her seat with her own coffee cup. This weekly brunch habit of theirs had gotten off track during all of the drama surrounding Rusty, the threats, and the trial. Brunch on Saturday was typically followed by shopping, and a late lunch which would involve large amounts of Sharon's favorite Moscato. "Ricky is still working a lot of long hours," She stated, indulging his quest for information. "Despite all of that, he says he's met someone. I guess we'll see how that goes. Shannon is in the middle of a show, she's doing great."

"That boy falls in love at the drop of a hat," Gavin pointed out with a smirk. "Not exactly his mother's son, in that regard." His smirk only broadened when she rolled her eyes at him.

"I'm a married woman, Gavin. It wouldn't be proper for me to fall in love at the drop of a hat," Sharon sighed.

"Ah!" There it was. The way her nose wrinkled at the word _married_, and there was a harder than necessary inflection on the term. "So that's it. Option number three. It isn't Rick or Shannon that has you distracted and bent out of shape. It's Jack. I should have known." Gavin rolled his eyes in annoyance. "What has the ungrateful sot done this time?"

"Nothing." Sharon shifted in her seat, suddenly uncomfortable. Gavin wasn't exactly the most comforting ear when it came to her husband, her marriage, or lack thereof. He stopped being supportive years ago, the last time she refused to let him file her divorce papers. Now he was simply resigned to it. She understood the feeling. Sharon figured she was there as well. "I haven't seen or heard from Jack in months, not since he was here last summer."

Gavin's face screwed up in disbelief. "And that's a problem?" He put his coffee cup down and leaned forward, peering at her over his frames. "Sweetie, that's not something to be upset about. That's a reason to celebrate. What in the world are you so worked up about? No Jackson is good news." Suddenly his eyes widened and he looked disgusted. "Oh god, you didn't. Tell me you didn't." Gavin flopped back in his seat, and looked skyward. "By all the saints you believe in, I'm begging you to tell me that you did _not _let that man back in to your—"

"No!" Sharon hissed at him. Her teeth drew back into a slight snarl, her lip curled. "God no. Don't be absurd, and there's no reason to be dramatic about it either. Absolutely not, I haven't let Jackson anywhere near me in, well, let's not discuss years. No, definitely no, Gavin," she said more gently. "That's somewhat the point, isn't it? Lately I'm starting to feel like I'm stuck. I'm married to a man that I pity, but otherwise can't stand, and the thought of letting him anywhere near me makes my skin crawl. We're legally separated, so I haven't exactly been a nun, and I haven't felt bad about that, but now…"

His eyes narrowed again. Something was bothering her about it, and it wasn't the usual. He turned his coffee cup on its saucer before lifting it again. "Now you'd like it to be different," he guessed. "And you're wondering why it can't be. Is this a genuine reflection," he waved his other hand at her. "Or is this going to be one of our pensive conversations where we go through all the reasons and where-fors, and in the end, nothing at all changes?"

Sharon exhaled sharply. She looked away and chewed on her bottom lip. "I'm…" She hesitated. "I'm not sure anymore. It seems a little ridiculous to worry about it this stage in my life. I'm a little old to be starting over."

"Oh please," he rolled his eyes at her. "Insecurity isn't very becoming on you sweetie. Speak, what's all the inner turmoil about, exactly."

She looked away and gave a soft moan. "I'm not entirely sure it should be discussed."

Gavin watched her shift in her seat, then she began fiddling with her hair. She drew it over her shoulder and toyed with the ends with one hand. His eyes widened suddenly. "What did you do?"

Sharon scraped her teeth across her bottom lip and lowered her face into her hands. "I think the more appropriate question might be _who_."

Both of his brows shot up. His coffee cup landed on it's saucer with a loud clank. "Oh my." Gavin sank back in his chair. He quickly lifted his hand and got the waiter's attention. "We're going to need some mimosas over here, dear. This has just turned into a celebratory occasion."

"Oh god." Sharon moaned again. She felt the heat rising to her cheeks. "Why am I telling you this. You're just going to make it all that much worse."

"Of course I am. Best friend's prerogative." Gavin smiled widely. "Since I know precisely how long it's been, I'm not going to ask the obscene question. No," he drew the syllable out. "What I am going to ask, since you've so wonderfully pointed me toward it, is who?"

Sharon dropped her hands and gave him a very pointed look over the tops of her glasses. "You're being entirely too gleeful about this." She sniffed, then huffed a sigh. "Oh, who do you think?"

"Hm, I'm not sure." Gavin tapped his fingers against his lips. "Let me think about this a moment. Too young, too naive, too _old_," his nose wrinkled at _that _prospect. "Oh, hm… Let's see, must be the frustratingly passionate Lieutenant Fl—"

"Shh," Sharon shushed him. "Don't actually _say_ it," she looked around quickly. They were regulars at the upscale cafe, and it wasn't as though she worried what would be overheard, as it was that once Gavin said it, it would be real.

He chortled at her. "You're entirely too Catholic darling. You've got guilt, that means it was good. Not only run of the mill, scratch an itch good, but the go back for more kind of good. Now I understand it." He rubbed his hands together and grinned widely. "The guilt is because you are actually wishing now that you were _not_ a married woman."

"Not necessarily." Sharon sighed. "It's always been there." She waved a hand, dismissively. "This is really nothing new, no I'm wondering if I've pushed myself toward this, _because_ of the state of my marriage."

"Doubtful." Gavin snorted at her. "You aren't the spur of the moment type. Unless it involves shoes and handbags, you over think practically _everything. _Jack was here months ago, almost a year, and you're only just _now_ acting on it? Please, that's hardly a case of rushing in to anything. I'm sure you worked yourself into quite a state of being suitably ulcer prone before you took the plunge. Congratulations." Their mimosas had arrived, Gavin toasted her with his.

"You're a horrible friend," Sharon decided. "You could be offering support right now, rather than boozing it up and outlining all of my not so great qualities." She sniffed, but lifted her own glass of champaign flavored orange juice.

"No, I'm a very good friend." Gavin pointed at her. "If you didn't _want_ me to know, then you wouldn't have said anything. You'd have taken this one to your grave. You can be very close-lipped when you want to be, Sharon. Oh no, you had every intention of discussing this with me, possibly not today, but discussing none-the-less. Now it's out in the open. You can't take it back. We're celebrating because you _need_ to celebrate. Stop being morose and all guilt-ridden. You lived in the moment." He wiped an imaginary tear. "I'm so proud."

Sharon rolled her eyes at him. "You're a pain." She huffed a sigh and lifted another croissant. "Is the problem more that I'm some kind of twisted glutton for punishment? Why now? Why not years ago when my life was less complicated. If I pursue this thing—"

"If?" Gavin snorted with gleeful laughter. "Yes, of course, _if. _Like you haven't already made _that_ decision. You've already done the naughty, you're pursuing it. But yes, let's play in hypotheticals. If. You were saying?"

She glared at him. Her green eyes flashed with irritation that only made his smile widen. "It's going to be very complicated. We work together, and the need for objectivity—"

"Blah, blah, blah," Gavin rolled his eyes at her. With his hand, he was pantomiming her speaking. "You've been dating the man for about eight months, it isn't as if it's been a problem so far. Now you're sleeping with him, big whoop."

Her eyes were wide. "We were not, that was not… we were friends." Sharon took a long sip of her mimosa.

"Oh yes, friends." Gavin made a face. "Let's see," he leaned forward suddenly and fixed her with his sharp-eyed, attorney's gaze. "Exhibit A, his daughter's wedding. You didn't wear the blue Donna Karan because you were going as a _friend_. Exhibit B, the ballet, I seem to recall the black Valentino. You don't wear that dress when you're just hanging out with a very good friend. Let's not forget, of course, how many other _incidents_ there have been which involved lunch, dinner, and… you brought him to Michael's premiere." He said of his ex, who happened to be a producer, and still a very good friend.

"That was a thank you," Sharon protested quickly, maybe even a little too quickly. "He wanted to see the movie, and he helped me out with a Rusty issue. I was just showing a little gratitude to a _friend_."

"Oh, you were grateful alright." Gavin smirked at her. "You were so grateful, you wore that red, fitted, cocktail dress. Darling, you've been dating, give it up. It's over, I know it, you know it. I promise you, _he_ knows it. He's probably even wondering why you're with me today instead of with him, doing all sorts of nasty—"

"Gavin," she glared darkly at him. Her voice held enough warning note that he did actually stop this time. When he pouted at her, she folded her arms over her chest. "Fine. We were dating."

"Yes, my lovely." He drummed his fingers against the table. "What else?"

"What, what else?" Sharon frowned at him. "There isn't anything else. I'm dating a subordinate. You may feel superior now."

"Hm, tempting." His lips pursed. "Yes, very tempting indeed. But no, because I love you, I shall refrain. No, that isn't what I want to hear." He wriggled his fingers at her. "Come on, I'm waiting."

Sharon sighed. "Gavin." It was her turn to pout.

"No, you have to say it." He leaned forward, practically vibrating with anticipation. This was a moment he had waited quite some time for. "Come on, out with it. You'll feel so much better, I promise."

She groaned. Sharon reached up and curled her hair around the fingers of one hand. She glanced away, and after a moment, she sighed. "Oh alright." She shook her head and met his gaze. "Do it."

"No." He almost bounced in his seat. "Not good enough. I want to hear _it_. There can be no mistake this time."

She made a face at him. "You're horrible. You shouldn't be enjoying this so much. It's a terribly difficult thing, you know."

"Yes, I know," it didn't curb his enthusiasm any. He lifted his brows expectantly.

Sharon blew out a breath. Her jaw clenched in annoyance at him. "File the divorce papers, Gavin."

He leaned back triumphantly. "Finally!" He rubbed his hands together joyfully. "You know, this calls for more of a celebration. We're going to Rodeo Drive my darling."

With another groan, she dropped her face into her hands again. He did take such great pleasure in her life's drama. But a better friend she'd never had. "I hate you."

"You adore me." Gavin gestured for the waiter to bring the check. "If I weren't solidly batting for the other team, you'd have gotten rid of the bum years ago and married me."

She laughed, a light, musical sound. "Your ego really does need some pruning, honey. You also need a reality check. We'd have killed each other, we're entirely too much alike, and there's no way we could have afforded our shopping habits."

"You make a very good point. But it would have been so amusing." He handed over his credit card and leaned forward. "Am I offering him the same package as last time," he asked, mind returning to the more important subject of her divorce.

"Yes, I think so," Sharon nodded. Then she shrugged. "It doesn't really matter. I think I just want it over."

"It matters," Gavin reminded her. "I'll go with the original filing. You're not going to let him weasel you out of it this time," he warned, raising a brow at her.

"No," she promised. "No, this time I'm really done. The last time I still had hope. Jack has managed to completely squander anything that remained then. I'll never trust him again, and part of me will never forgive him. I pity him, for the most part. It's just time to call it what it was, and be done with it. I've moved on."

"Good girl." He signed off on the credit card slip and stood. Gavin moved around the table and took her chair while she rose. "I'll take care of it, don't worry about a thing." He took her arm and looped it through his. "Now, let's go spend an obscene amount of money."

Her eyes narrowed. "How obscene?"

"You're going to want sex therapy to recover from our retail therapy, sweetie."

She moaned. "Oh god."


	2. Chapter 2

Break-up Advice - Chapter 2

by Kadi

Rated: T

* * *

There were things that Rusty Beck would like to know, and things that he needed to know. Then there were things that Rusty wished he could forget, and wipe out of his brain completely. At the moment, he was really not wanting to know why Sharon was acting so oddly, but at the same time, he kind of did. It was just so _weird_, and not in that oh so pensive way that indicated something was wrong. No, this was decidedly _not_ that. He knew what that looked like. It was one of those things he'd like to forget. Rusty figured he could go his entire life without seeing what Sharon looked like when something was just so _wrong_ and the world was insane and spinning out of control. He had been there, they had done that. He was good with avoiding a repeat.

What he was faced with instead was Sharon staying out a lot of odd hours, and that was so unlike her. When he asked, she always managed to change the subject on him, or give him some sort of vague excuse about having too much work and not enough time to get it all done. Then there were the hushed phone calls behind closed doors. He was trying very hard not to pry or be overly nosy, but if she wasn't acting so completely unusual, he wouldn't _need_ to pry. It was really all Sharon's fault, when he thought about it.

At least, he thought it was until he found out exactly _what_ was going on. Then he wished he hadn't. There were really things that he didn't need to know, and suddenly he was so very sorry for being curious in the first place. He was also sorry about staying up way past his bedtime, and really, Sharon was right. It was detrimental, mainly because now there were certain images burned into the backs of his eyelids, and really, he _never _needed to see that.

He didn't need to know _anything_ ever again. He would never be curious again. If he could just get those images out of his head, he swore to any power that was listening, he would mind his own business from now on. That was because nothing could be more horrifying, more embarrassing, and so completely traumatizing as walking through the condo at two in the morning and finding Sharon making out with Lieutenant Flynn on the sofa. Who knew that old people even still did _that_. Wasn't it dangerous? Someone could break a hip, and oh god, why did Sharon have to want to talk about _everything_?

Rusty squinted at her, where she stood in his open door and held up his hands, as if to ward her off. "Please don't talk about it. I don't need to talk about it. Let's pretend it never happened. I'm _begging_ you, Sharon. Just forget I ever left this room tonight."

"Rusty." She looked mildly pensive, and a little embarrassed. Still, she smiled at him. _At him_. He had totally just ruined the end of her date, and she was smiling at him. She was going to talk about it.

Rusty sighed. Yep, here they went. It was talking time. He slumped on the edge of his bed and hung his head. "It's okay. I'm scarred for life, but I'm not upset."

Now she was giving him that amused, warm smile, the one he didn't get to see very often, but was always reserved for when he was being difficult and truthful at the same time. "Claiming to be scarred for life would indicate a level of upset. Rusty, I'm sorry—"

"Oh my _god_." He shoved his hands into his hair. "Please, don't be sorry. We really don't have to talk about it, and I'm totally not upset. It's okay, I promise. I just don't want to discuss it because, seriously Sharon? Ew!"

She pressed her lips together to suppress a smile. Her eyes were dancing with amusement at his plight. "If you change your mind you'll let me know?"

"I won't, but sure." He scowled at her. "If you laugh at me right now, Sharon. I swear…"

"I'm not," she promised immediately. "I'm amused at the situation, but not at you. It _is_ somewhat ridiculous. I'm also very sorry. I didn't think you'd still be up at this hour, and it was thoughtless of us to get so—"

"You understand this is the part where I make you pay for therapy, right?" Rusty looked skyward and sighed. "Vast amounts of extreme therapy, and possibly even the kind with hypnosis, maybe even electric shock… just to get that image out of my head _forever_."

Sharon rolled her eyes at him. She decided that he was okay if he was being sarcastic about it. "Good night, Rusty." She reached for the door to pull it closed behind her.

"Hey, Sharon…" Rusty chewed on the corner of his lip. "Did Lieutenant Flynn already go home?"

"No he did not." She arched a brow at him. "_Good night_, Rusty."

"Oh god." He fell face first into his pillows and groaned, loudly.

The following morning, the Lieutenant was gone, and he found Sharon in the kitchen nursing a cup of coffee while she gazed out the patio doors at the city. Rusty moved quickly into the kitchen and pulled the orange juice from the fridge. He noticed there was breakfast on the table. He didn't want to think about how long she had been awake, or why. Instead, he sat down at the table with his juice.

"Is this like, a thing now?" Rusty almost cursed himself for asking, because really, he did _not_ need to know. The thing was, he couldn't always stop his mouth from forming words.

She tilted her head and glanced back at him. She had her cup cradled in both hands. Sharon turned slowly and hummed at him. "Does it matter?"

Rusty was reminded, again, that it was none of his business. Except that he lived here too, and she kept telling him that he had a place in her life, which meant that it was his business. "Not especially," He said. "I just wondered if we were going to have to work out a system. You know, sock on the door, or something." He smirked at her, because really, traumatizing though it might be, if he couldn't have any fun with it, then it was really going to suck knowing all of this.

With her lips pursed, she walked to the table and eased into a seat. "Rusty, I need you to understand, I'd like this kept discreet. My private life is—"

"Private." He rolled his eyes at her. "Seriously, got that part, Sharon. I don't even want to know, who am I going to tell? You really don't have to worry about it. Secret is safe with me."

"Thank you," she smiled warmly at him. "And I'll make an effort to refrain from further… scarring you for life."

"That would be great." He watched her rise and walk into the kitchen to refill her cup. "And I promise, I won't tell anyone…" Rusty paused, he grinned deviously. "After I tell Provenza, and Julio, and Buzz…" He ducked the dishtowel that was tossed at his head. "It's only fair that I warn them, Sharon. No one should have to see what I saw. I already emailed Shannon…" He grinned widely.

Sharon's eyes narrowed. "I suggest you get it out of your system now, Rusty. I'm only going to be willing to allow you so much leeway."

"Yeah, I wonder if that's what you said to Flynn too." Rusty discovered something else in that moment. Sharon could seriously _throw_ and watching her squirm was fun.

Over time, Rusty got used to the changes. It wasn't so completely weird anymore. There were still hushed conversations behind closed doors, but that was just fine with him. Now that he knew, he began realizing that Lieutenant Flynn was around an awful lot, and after the little _reveal_ he seemed to be around a lot more often. It wasn't exactly all the time, not at first anyway. Rusty just noticed that he showed up some evenings, or was still there some mornings as he got ready for school.

That lawyer friend of Sharon's was around a lot more, and those conversations seemed more pensive. Sharon wasn't usually very happy after one of them, but they didn't talk about it. Rusty had learned his lesson. No more being nosy for him, he figured Sharon would tell him when she was ready. Besides, he had a pretty good idea. Sharon had a boyfriend, and her lawyer friend was around? Rusty wasn't an idiot. He was thinking _so long Jack_!

Then one morning a few weeks later, Rusty realized that Flynn was _always_ around. He couldn't remember the last time the guy had gone home, like to his own place, but wondered if it really mattered so much. Sharon was actually happy, and it wasn't so bad. He was actually kind of okay, and once the weirdness factor wore off, they got along alright. Rusty couldn't complain too much, he was going off to school soon. Even if it was only USC, Sharon was insisting that he have the college experience. He gave up fighting her on that. She also insisted he wasn't _moving out_, he was only moving in to the dorm come fall, and he would be home every holiday and break. Sharon could be so spastic. Rusty went along with it because it made her happy, and really, he just liked that life was _normal_ now.

Even when normal meant doing mundane things, like not being a complete spastic moron when one of Sharon's kids was in town. It was easy with Shannon, except when she tried to drag him shopping with her. For the most part they liked the same things, and really, Rusty was sure she just liked having someone around to torment, the way her brother had tormented her. The other one, Ricky, reminded him of Buzz. He had that, _I__'__m tolerating you because I have to _air about him, at least in the beginning. Now when he blew through town he was more or less okay, which wasn't often. He was some kind history nut, and he moved around a lot. Mostly in deserts and jungles, playing in the mud and the dirt. Rusty didn't get it, but whatever, he didn't really have to get it.

Rusty decided it wasn't such a hardship to keep the sarcasm to a minimum while Sharon's son was in town. She was being spastic enough for both of them, what with the whole boyfriend thing. Ricky was having a great deal of fun at his mother's expense, so Rusty was reining it in.

He was feeling charitable, so he even held his tongue when he and Sharon found Jack loitering around in the parking garage of their building. When Sharon told him to go inside, in _that_ voice, Rusty cast an uneasy look at Jack and only considered disobeying for about a second. He took the grocery bags out of the car and reflected silently on how she had gone from laughing to stone in less than a second. He wondered if she'd still feel like making dinner after dealing with Jack, and when the sickening smell of cheap whiskey turned his stomach as he walked past the man, he figured the answer was probably no. Ricky was expected, and so was Flynn, and that was going to be all kinds of awkward all on its own, but now, now they had moved well beyond awkward and into the land of drama. The unavoidable kind, the kind that really sucked.

Rusty sighed as he trudged inside, through the lobby. His stomach was churning. That feeling was back, the one that had seemed almost constant while they were waiting for the Stroh trial to be over with. The sick, helpless feeling he got every time another letter came in. The feeling he got when he knew something bad was going to happen, like when his mom was late getting home and he knew he was probably going to get locked out of the apartment, or she was going to bring some loser home. His stomach cramped and his chest ached. He wondered if going inside was really the right thing to do, but going back might not be so great either, and really he didn't need Sharon mad at _him_ on top of everything. He wasn't trying to snoop, and this is why he didn't like drama. And maybe normal wasn't so normal after all.

Inside the lobby, Rusty spotted Ricky standing near the main elevators, talking to Gavin. Why the lawyer was there, he didn't know, and right at that moment, Rusty didn't really care. He brightened considerably, and the sick feeling in his stomach lifted as the tight knot churning in his gut started to loosen up. _He_ didn't have to go back out there, he could go upstairs and start dinner, and be all kinds of helpful. He was never so happy to see Ricky in all his life, and was really thinking the guy wasn't so bad at all, not right in that moment.

"Hey." Rusty swallowed hard and stopped near them. The canvas bags holding their groceries felt heavy in his hands, the straps were tugging at his palms, only made worse by the fact that they were starting to sweat. "You're early," and he didn't mean to sound so excited by that prospect.

Ricky's eyes narrowed. The kid was looking slightly pale and just a little bit green. "My meeting finished early, and look who I found loitering around. What did you do? You're not looking so great. Maybe we can get you out of it before Mom finds out."

"I've negotiated more than one grounding," Gavin smirked. "This one would know," he jerked his head toward Ricky. "How much its going to cost you depends on the crime. Are we talking bed without dessert, a weekend with no internet, or are we playing for the big stakes here. If you dented the car, you're on your own. I don't think I can get you out of that one."

"I wish." A dented fender was actually seeming like not so bad a thing at the moment. "Sharon drove, anyway… I didn't do anything. Or maybe I'm about to. I don't know. Whatever, I don't care, she can ground me. Look, your dad is here," he blinked nervously at Ricky. "He was waiting in the garage, and I'm pretty sure he was drunk. Smelled like he'd had an entire fifth of whiskey, the cheap stuff too. Sharon made me come—" Rusty stopped talking. He almost lost his footing. The lawyer had practically tossed his briefcase aside and lunged, sprinting toward the garage exit. Ricky shoved past him too, and that was what had nearly knocked him over. "In," he finished and turned. The sick feeling returned tenfold and Rusty chewed on his bottom lip. Okay, so maybe being grounded was the least of his worries. It only took half a second for him to make the decision, he dropped the bags near the wall and jogged after them.

Gavin reached him first. He was the taller of the pair, and while older, he was vain enough to admit that he spent hours every week working out. He was glad of that, particularly seeing as how pudgy Jack had gotten since the last time he'd seen the reprobate. Gavin didn't stop, and he didn't think, which was unusual for him. He grabbed the older man by his shoulders and spun him away. He threw him as hard as he dared, and when the intoxicated loser got tangled in his own feet and went down, Gavin smiled with some amount of grim satisfaction. "I warned you what would happen if I caught you in this state again," he stated, pointing at the other man.

The eery calm was a little more disturbing than the sudden sprinting had been, or even the way he'd tossed Jack across the garage like so much garbage. Rusty stared at them, wide-eyed. He'd always thought of Gavin as a bit of a goofball, strangely more elegant and not the same caliber of goofball as maybe Flynn and Provenza when they were pulling one of their stunts. The guy giggled, he wore designer suits, and when he stopped by with dinner it was usually sushi, for crying out loud. The large, looming guy that was vibrating with so much fury was decidedly _not_ someone that Rusty had ever seen before. He blinked owlishly, and decided it was better if he stayed on the outer edge of the action.

Ricky had moved to his mother, who appeared more irritated than anything. He could deal with irritated. It was preferable to what they could have found, had the incident escalated, which it was close to doing. Already his father had trapped her against the side of her car, and was screaming at her when they interrupted the _argument_. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," she said simply, although she touched his arm and gave it a comforting squeeze as she stepped away from the car. Sharon sighed and adjusted the strap of her purse on her shoulder. "Gavin, enough." She reached for his arm and tugged him back. "It's fine. Jack was just leaving. He won't be coming back. Come on," she tugged on his arm again.

"He just assaulted me!" Jack was attempting to get up, and not having much luck. "I want to file a report. I'm calling the police." He started patting down his pockets, looking for his phone. When he found it, the face was shattered, from where he'd landed on it. "You broke my phone you son-of-a—"

"_Jack_." Sharon's voice cracked through the parking garage. "Leave," she ordered. "Unless you'd like to be arrested for public intoxication, I suggest that you go, _now_. Otherwise the only one here that will be filing a report will be me."

"You can't do that!" He sneered at her. "I live here! Ask any judge in the land, that little hovel of yours and everything in it is community property. You can't arrest me for anything. I'm on my property."

"You're in a public parking garage." Gavin was slowly smoothing out the cuffs of his suit. He swept a hand down his tie and the lapels of his very expensive Hugo Boss suit. "Attached to a building in which the woman from whom you are legally separated is currently residing. The condo was purchased after the separation. You could argue community property all day long, and a lesser lawyer might lose against you, but I think we both know that I am not lesser. If you'd like to take this to court, by all means. I dare you." He flicked imaginary dust off his jacket with the back of his left hand. "In fact, I look forward to it. Just so you're aware, that day in court will come after the police have been phoned and it's gone on record that you are intoxicated, quite a bit over the legal limit I would wager, and that you've attempted to assault your wife." Gavin paused, while his eyes narrowed. "Again. But, go right ahead, face me in court." He clasped his hands in front of him and stared down his nose at the other man.

_Again_. Rusty's eyes snapped to Sharon and widened. He saw her stiffen, but make no other outward sign that Gavin's revelation meant anything at all. "Sharon?"

She hadn't realized that he was there. Her jaw clenched and she grimaced. "Rusty, I thought I asked you to go inside," she sounded stilted, pained. Sharon shook her head and turned away from Jack. She strode toward him and lay a hand on his shoulder. "Let's go, there's nothing that you need to see here. Richard."

It wasn't until she touched him that he realized that her hand was shaking. She really had looked mostly stiff, in that way that usually indicated there was a major silent treatment coming on. Not that he'd had one of those directed at him recently, or in quite some time, come to think of it. Rusty swallowed hard and nodded, a bit convulsively. He was really wanting to ask, but his power of speech seemed to have evaded him for the moment. Mainly because _normal_ was seeming entirely _too_ normal now. He let Sharon maneuver him inside, and together they gathered the grocery bags and Gavin's briefcase. He realized when Ricky took one of the bags out of his hand, that he had followed them.

Ricky took the other bag from his mother, and reached past her to hit the button for the elevator. He ushered the two of them in ahead of him and followed them into the elevator. He cast a sideways glance at his mother and shook his head. "He's drinking again?"

"So it seems." She stared forward, and chose not to elaborate. Expanding on all of Jackson's many faults and flaws could take all night, and she really didn't want to think about it. Delving into that led down a path that she had chosen not to revisit again, and it was really a vicious cycle. She would have to consider all the reasons for his behavior and then she would only feel guilty, and it never seemed to fail, that she ended up feeling sorry for him in the end. That was the crux of Jack's ability to manipulate. He was a typical addict, the fault was never his. Sharon's jaw clenched again. There was a headache building behind her eyes, and the tension was only matched by the knot twisting in her stomach. When the elevator opened, she laid a hand on Rusty's back and propelled him forward. He was being strangely silent, and that in itself was worrisome. She dropped her hand only to dig her keys out of her purse and unlock the door. She held it open for the boys and followed them inside.

Ricky carried the bags to the kitchen and laid them on the counter. He wasn't at all surprised when his mother made the turn and walked down the hall to her bedroom. When he heard the door close he sighed. He looked at Rusty and shook his head. "It's a long story."

He cast a worried look down the hall and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Really? Because… what the hell?" That seemed to sum it up. Rusty walked over and stood at the bar. He shook his head, and shrugged his shoulders, trying to loosen the tension there. "That was…"

"Mom would call it unfortunate." Ricky started unloading bags, for lack of anything better to do. "That was my dad, I'm so proud," he drawled sarcastically. "I don't know what she's told you, or if she's told you anything. She's a little… you know."

"Try _a lot_," Rusty replied. "She's told me some stuff, but mostly, it's none of my business is the answer that I get."

"Sounds familiar." Ricky folded one of the canvas bags and then leaned against the opposite side of the bar. "I guess our reaction was a little extreme. It's not like this happens all the time."

"He wasn't like this when he was here last summer. He seemed…" Rusty tilted his head. "Well, he was weird, and kind of greasy, you know. But it wasn't like _that_." He chewed on the inside of his cheek and wondered if he really wanted to know or not.

"It's not always. I'm not sure how long he's been drinking, as far as we knew, Dad's been sober for years. The gambling was the only thing he never really gave up. He's not all that great most of the time, but when he's in the bottle, he can be a different person completely. Not so much with the cheerful. Especially if he's even the least upset with mom."

Rusty shifted nervously. He scuffed his shoe against the carpet. "What did Gavin mean when he said again? It doesn't seem like Sharon that she would let him come around at all if he had…"

"People are complicated," Ricky said quietly. "Relationships are even more complicated. It's one of the things mom doesn't like to talk about. She's always had a weak spot where my dad was concerned. I guess it's pretty typical. Dad left when we were pretty young, and I guess it was part of the whole Catholic thing that she kept letting him come back, even when it was obvious that she didn't love him anymore. It was all guilt and duty and responsibility. Then one night he came in drunk, and I guess she'd had enough. She told him to leave and not bother coming back, at least not until he'd figured out how to get his life straight. She wasn't footing the bill anymore, not for the gambling, or the booze, or _the women_." Ricky ran a hand across his forehead. "Dad tossed her around a little. It was just the once. Gavin drew up the papers on the separation, and it was maybe four years before we saw him again. He was sober, but he needed money. Mom sent him packing again, but he'd show up again at least once a year. Usually, okay, _always_ when he needed something. A place to stay, money, you name it. At some point mom initiated the two night rule. She didn't _want_ to feel guilty, or feel sorry for him, but dad has a way of swinging that vote in his direction. Nothing altogether too traumatic, but that's our story in a nutshell."

"And now you know."

Rusty jumped, and looked behind him. He hadn't heard Sharon come out of her room. He rubbed his palms against his jeans. He gave her a guilty look. "I'm sorry, I didn't… I just…" He fidgeted miserably. "Sharon, I just wanted to understand why it was so… _so_."

"Yes, I know." She walked past him toward the kitchen. "Thank you, honey." She nudged Ricky aside, but her hand stayed on his arm for a moment longer than was really necessary. "Rusty, this isn't something I want you worrying about. It's a non-issue. What happened today really has no bearing on anything. Jack's behavior was unfortunate, but he isn't going to be bothering us anymore."

"Seriously?" Rusty just stared at her, and honestly that was such a _Sharon_ thing to say, but was she being completely for real right now? "So what? Your husband shows up completely wasted, and everyone acts like he's just so dangerous, and when we get there, he's basically in your face, and you're calling that a _non-issue_. Like, really?"

Sharon looked skyward and drew a deep breath, which she let out slowly. She gripped the edge of the counter, although the urge to shove her hands into her pockets was almost too strong to ignore. She didn't want to dwell on the incident, honestly, it was a non-issue. Nothing had happened, and even now she could trust that Gavin was guaranteeing that she wouldn't have to deal with Jack again, because really, they both knew that she would either end up feeling sorry for him… or shooting him. Neither of which was a very good option. "Rusty…" She exhaled again. "It's not an issue. Not anymore. Gavin is already handling my divorce, and you know, it's just not that important. I'm not going to allow myself to worry about it, and I would really like it if you wouldn't either. The past is the past. Remember?"

They couldn't change it. They couldn't rewrite it. It was what it was, and all they could do was learn from their mistakes, their actions, and move on. Rusty sighed. "I'm sorry," he said, and meant it, because really he hadn't wanted to pry and he didn't like that she was looking so many kinds of miserable right now. Even if she was trying to hide it. "I guess that kind of spoiled the night, huh?" It was going to be all kinds of awkward, but he knew that she was looking forward to it, in that really weird way that was completely _Sharon_.

Her lips pursed. Yes, her mood had taken a rather sour turn, and while she was trying to recapture the earlier lightness, she supposed that wouldn't actually be possible. "No," Sharon tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "I don't think that it has to, not if we don't allow it to." She gave him a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Rusty, please, don't worry about this. I'm not."

He wasn't ready to let go of it yet. Maybe he should be, but Rusty had one last card to play. "If everything is so okay, and not such a problem, then why do you still look like it is?"

This time, even Ricky winced and stepped away. He walked around the end of the bar and slipped onto a stool. It really was the better part of self preservation to stay out of it. He had been down this road with her a number of times himself. It was always a dead end street, but he supposed the kid would have to learn, at some point. Ricky ran a hand over his hair and cast a look at his mother, that was probably a little _too_ knowing, but he at least managed to not look smug.

Her eyes narrowed for just a moment. She glanced at her son and sighed. When had they outnumbered her? "Rusty…" Sharon closed her eyes for a moment. "Damn it." She pressed her lips together and shook her head. "I'm trying very hard not to dwell on a situation that I can't change. I'd really like it if you could help by just letting it go."

Yep, she was good at the guilt thing. Rusty climbed onto a stool and slumped against the bar. "Yeah, okay." His face screwed up, for just a moment. "What about Flynn?"

Sharon's shoulders slumped, just a bit. "That's another conversation that I'm not looking forward to, Rusty. One that needs to be had, but you know, and I can't stress this enough… it really isn't for you to worry about. I'm sorry that you had to witness any of that at all, but it's really _not_ an issue anymore. It's over, I promise."

"I'd say it is." Gavin strode into the apartment, looking rather pleased with himself. "Well, that was refreshing, as always." He crossed over to the kitchen and looked around. His nose wrinkled. "You aren't actually going to cook, are you? I could call Marcel's. Sweetie, let me dial." He reached for his phone.

Sharon sniffed. "You've never complained about my cooking before. I happen to _like_ cooking."

"Yes, but I can dial like no one's business." Gavin smirked as he demonstrated, hitting the speed dial for his favorite French restaurant."

"Sharon." Rusty looked mildly panicked.

She rolled her eyes. "Don't worry, he won't hide any snails in yours this time." She turned her back on them and began putting everything away.

Ricky leaned toward Rusty. "He probably will," he muttered. "Any sign of weird stuff and I have Papa Murphy's on speed dial."

Gavin made a sniffing sound and snapped his fingers at them. "Just because you are uncultured. Sharon, sweetie, really. I would have expected better."

"Yes I know." She feigned a sigh. "Ricky is stubborn, but the other one is still new. There's time." With the groceries put away, she took the kettle out and filled it.

"Oh no there's not," Rusty was quick to correct her. "I tried it last time, because you two ganged up on me. It's not happening again."

"Ouch." Ricky winced sympathetically. "Did you get the, we must always try new things, speech?" He shook his head. "I can't believe they're still doing it. You know, it's kind of creepy."

"Uncultured and smart mouthed." Gavin lifted his nose into the air and took his phone into the living room so that he could place the order.

"That's a speech they use?" Rusty tossed a disbelieving look at his guardian. "_Sharon_!"

"Hm?" She smiled at him, and this time it reached her eyes. "Well, you did at least try it, didn't you, Rusty? I would say that it was rather successful, honey."

"I wouldn't," Gavin chimed in. At the knock on the door he walked over, phone still to his ear, and pulled it open. It wouldn't be Jack, he'd handled that well enough. They were still expecting the other one. He pulled the door wide and stepped back when he saw that it was, in fact, Lieutenant Flynn. "Speaking of smart mouthed…"

His brows rose. "We all need to be famous for something right?" Andy stepped into the apartment and pushed the door closed behind him. He looked around, and while Gavin looked like his usually unflappable self, that he was even there was somewhat curious. Sharon's son seemed to be more or less okay, but he didn't really have anything to compare it to. The kid, on the other hand, looked a bit pale and somewhat strained. Then there was Sharon. She was busying herself pulling down mugs for tea, but he saw through the smile she gave him. She was brittle around the edges, and her face was a bit drawn. He shrugged out of his jacket and stopped to hang it up before moving further into the apartment. "Everything okay?"

Rusty and Ricky shared a glance before they both swiveled around on their stools and stepped away from the kitchen. "So, chess huh?" Ricky asked.

"You play?" Rusty started walking toward his room.

"A little. Maybe we should see if you're as good as I've been told," he followed him, the both of them making a hasty retreat.

"Because that's not the least bit suspicious," Flynn drawled.

Sharon chuckled quietly. "They get points for trying." She opened another cupboard and took down a box of tea bags. "We've decided on French. Or, actually, Gavin decided. It looks like we have one more for dinner, I hope you don't mind."

"Nope," he nodded his head to where the lawyer was now ordering their dinner, in French. "About that?"

She sighed. "I'd ask if we could talk about it later, but I'd hate to waste a good retreat." She reached for the kettle when it began to whistle and poured water into three mugs. Sharon glanced toward the living room, then nodded her head toward the balcony. "Outside?"

"Okay." She was worrying him now. He took one of the mugs when she offered it, then watched her take one and offer the third to Gavin. Andy opened the balcony door and held it while she joined him. He followed her into the early evening sun, which had only just started to turn the sky to scarlet as it sank toward the horizon. Andy hitched his hip against the balcony rail and held the mug in one hand, watching while she cradled hers, and seemed to struggle. He'd learned it was usually better to just be patient, even if patience wasn't a particular virtue of his. The balcony wasn't long enough for her to pace, for that he was grateful.

There were things in her past that few knew about, secrets which she had guarded so carefully over the years. Even her parents didn't know the entire story of what had taken place during that last, awful fight with Jack, the precursor to their legal separation. Her children knew only because they had been there, and Gavin had already been a friend, and just out of the City Attorney's office and building a reputation for himself in private practice. She had gone to him because she trusted him, implicitly, to keep that secret. And he had. If Jack hadn't decided to act seven kinds of a fool that evening, it was likely that the secret would have remained in the past, where it belonged. Sharon had never thought of herself as battered, or abused, rather just unfortunate to be in a bad marriage with a man too self involved to care about those that his choices were hurting. She worked hard to pull herself and her children out of the hole he created for them. The part of her that was duty bound to the vows they'd taken had hoped for the best, until there was no more hope to be found.

"_You__'__re still married to a man you haven__'__t lived with in twenty years, and you__'__re giving me breakup advice right now?__" _

Those words echoed in her head, even now. Even after starting the process of following her own advice. Probably because she knew that she had waited far too long. There was a part of her that was frightened this evening, but it was about those she cared for, and how Jack's behavior would effect them. It was one of the many reasons why she never wanted Rusty to become attached to him. He would be less likely to be disappointed by someone he hardly knew.

The feel of fingers brushing her hair aside made her smile. She turned her head toward him and closed her eyes. "Hm." She hummed quietly. She didn't want to break the moment, but she could feel his pensive curiosity. Sharon laid her cheek agains this hand, where it rested against her shoulder. "Jack was here. Well, not _here_, but he was waiting in the parking garage when Rusty and I got home. He's drinking again. How long he's been off the wagon, I couldn't say." She turned and leaned back agains the balcony ledge. "Gavin handled it, but his claws are effectively out now, and if Jack doesn't behave himself, there are going to be some things said that aren't very pleasant."

His hand moved up and down her back, stroking gently. She was wound tighter than she would like anyone to know. Andy's hand slid up beneath the curtain of her hair to rest against the back of her neck. His thumb stroked gently against the graceful column. "Divorce isn't usually a good time, I would expect there to be some unpleasantness. You aren't made of stone, Sharon. It's okay to be effected by it." He tilted his head at her, and his dark eyes roamed the lines of her face, and the way she kept her own gaze focused on the contents of her cup. "Sharon, this isn't new territory for me. I've been there, on the other side, if you remember. I was the drunk, terrible husband. I know what kind of destruction someone can create when they let themselves be lost in the addiction. If you're worried that I—"

"No." She reached up and curled her hand around his wrist. "I know it would take more than that to scare you off, you're much too stubborn." She managed a small smile. "It isn't that at all. I'm actually grateful that you understand, and I'm sure that sounds horrible because I know you'd change your history if you could. No, it's more a matter of wanting the past to stay _in_ the past, reconciling myself to the fact that these things have a way of coming back to haunt us. When Jack is drinking," she explained, with some difficulty, "he isn't as others know him to be. He can be the loud, boisterous person that everyone remembers from his time at the bars, but afterward, when the buzz begins to wane, he can be terribly… unpredictable."

There was a certain amount of regret in her eyes, and just enough hint of embarrassment that he understood where she was going with this line of conversation. Andy slid his arm around her shoulders and tugged her to him. The fraying around the edges, he understood now. She was a strong woman and it was difficult to admit any weakness, but it was hardly weakness at all that she wanted to protect her family, even from those things she couldn't control. "FID isn't here, so I'll go out on a limb and say that either you were able to suppress the urge to reach for your gun, or Jack didn't get the opportunity to be… unpredictable."

"Hm." Sharon smiled into his shoulder. "No, he wasn't given the opportunity," she said quietly. "I was saved by my very own fairy god lawyer." The corners of her mouth twitched and she looked up at him, amusement was beginning to chase away the regret and the sadness. "The first time, I was just so shocked by it, it didn't occur to me until later that I was armed. After that, Jack was more or less out of my life, and well, it was what it was. I think the hardest part about all of this is finally having to admit that I'm just not perfect."

Silence descended on them for just a moment, and then Andy chuckled. He took their tea cups and set them on a small table she kept in the corner of the balcony. Then he cupped her face in his hands and kissed the top of her head. "Yes, I can understand just how much of a hardship that must be, especially for you." He grinned when she rolled her eyes at him. "So now, Gavin is ordering dinner." His lips pursed. "There aren't going to be snails involved this time, right?"

Sharon looked skyward. She drew a breath and let it out slowly. When her gaze fell, it was filled with warmth and affection. "I really am outnumbered these days…"

"Yes, you really are." He smirked playfully. "You love it." Andy ran his hands down her arms. "Okay?"

Her lips pursed and her head tilted. She gave it the consideration that it deserved. "I think so, yes. It's unfortunate that it put a pallor on the evening. I suppose it's a bit of a relief too, no matter what else happens, that door is finally closed. I think I'm only sorry that it took so long."

"When doesn't matter." Andy's arms curled around her. "Time is relative, so long as it's a decision that you're happy with. As long as it's something that _you_ can live with, then how long it took for you to get there… doesn't matter at all, Sharon."

Her smile softened. "Who is being the buffer now?"

"I do what I can." His dark eyes glittered. "It's this book I read. _How to keep the little woman_—" He trailed off, wincing playfully when she slapped his shoulder. "I like to think of it as doing the opposite of what my partner tells me to do."

Sharon drew back, eyes wide. "He knows?"

Andy's face went ashen, for just a moment. When he saw her lips press together, and the sparkle of mischief in her gaze, his own narrowed. Andy turned away and picked up their cups. He moved back to the door. "I'll get you for that, and your little dog too."

Sharon followed, laughing. "I thought that was my line."

"We'll discuss it," his brows bobbed, drawing another laugh.

"I do so enjoy those little debates," she drawled, sliding into the apartment ahead of him.

"Now, now," Andy cautioned. "You'll make the god lawyer blush."

"Oh honey," Gavin didn't even bother to look up from where he was scrolling through the next day's worth of appointments on his smart phone. "The stories I could tell you… she was a wicked, evil witch long before your lot bestowed that monicker on her. There was this one time, we drove up to Santa Barbara for the weekend, and…"

"Gavin." Sharon glowered until he snapped his mouth shut.

He pouted. "She never lets me have any fun anymore." The lawyer waited until she had her back turned and smirked at Flynn. _We__'__ll talk_, he mouthed.

Rusty inched down the hallway, ready to retreat again if necessary. The tension which had filled the outer rooms of the condo had dissipated, and he found instead laughter ringing through the living room. Gavin and the Lieutenant had ganged up on Sharon, attempting to tell stories that she was working hard to shut down, much to their amusement. His shoulders relaxed, almost at once, and he let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. So maybe everything wasn't all weird now after all. He made sure to not listen too closely as he walked toward the kitchen to grab two bottles of water. Really, knowing was overrated. He was good with being oblivious. He almost started humming out loud to block out the sounds when he heard Gavin mention something about stilettos and fishnets. _Way _too much information. Rusty Beck, oblivious guy, that was going to be him from now on. Just as soon as Ricky finished telling him how to get out of Saturday chores…


	3. Chapter 3

Break up advice - Chapter 3

by Kadi  
Rated: T

* * *

When Ricky left much later that evening, Sharon walked down with him. There hadn't been much opportunity to talk following the incident. She curled an arm through his. "You could stay. You know that you don't have to stay at the hotel." It wasn't the first time since his arrival in town that she attempted to dissuade him from renting a room for the duration. In the past, he'd have stayed with her. As she'd told Rusty, the spare room was for when her children visited, although it wasn't exactly spare any longer. There was still room enough for Richard. They would make the room.

"I know." He smiled down at her, an amused twist of his lips. "You've mentioned it. More than once." His look was completely indulgent. "I'm a fan of hotels, and while I know you're willing to cook at the drop of a hat, there's just something to be said about room service. They don't expect me to do the dishes."

Sharon rolled her eyes at his teasing. "Point taken. I'll stop fussing. Are you going to be okay?"

She was rather incredible at times, and this was one of them. "Shouldn't I be asking you that?" Ricky stopped beside his rental car and leaned back against it. "Mom, I'm not eight anymore. I'm fully aware that the world isn't made up of giant, cheerful, high-pitched mice and all their equally cheerful friends. Far more disappointing than that was the severe lack of giant, talking, robot cars, but hey… I'm coping. I'm pretty acquainted with dad's many shortcomings. There's only so much you can shield us from, and at some point, you've got to stop and let us deal. Besides, we were only ever just disappointed. You were the one that had to deal with all the fallout. Are _you_ going to be okay?"

"Oh baby, I'm fine." She leaned against the side of the car beside him and pushed her hands into the pockets of her jeans, which she had changed into earlier, shortly before their dinner had arrived. "I'm sorry that the evening didn't go as planned. It certainly wasn't what I had in mind. I'd like nothing more than to just be able to put all of it behind us, but I'm afraid that it's just part of who we've become. Your father…"

"You don't have to explain," he said quietly. "And, you know, maybe it turned out better than you had planned. The evening, I mean. It was bound to be awkward anyway. You were going public, and it's pretty obvious. Besides, Shannon has a big mouth. Andy is last month's news. I already had the scoop. Don't sweat it, okay?" He nudged her with his shoulder. "We're all grown up now. We can read the writing on the wall. I'm just glad we were here, and don't give Rusty too hard a time, okay? I know you like to be the big protector, shield the kiddies from all the nasty, but I get the feeling he could teach me a thing or two about the big, bad world. Give the kid some credit. He's a bit of an awkward spaz, but he's okay."

Sharon sighed. She drew her hands out of her pockets and wrapped her arms around his, to lean into his side. "When did you get so grown up, hm?" It seemed like not so long ago that he was every bit as sullen and awkward, and working his way through all the stages of teenage angst that she was still facing with Rusty - albeit with a lot less worldly knowledge. "Don't worry about Rusty. Our routine is well practiced by now."

Ricky pushed away from the car and grinned down at her. "Growing up was the easy part. I had this really awesome mom. She just doesn't worry enough about herself, is all. Always too busy worrying about everyone else." He pulled her into a hug. "Even when she really doesn't need to. I'm good. Shannon is the drama queen, remember."

She rolled her eyes at his comment, but hugged him back. "I love you. Now go, it's late. Enjoy your room service." Sharon stepped back from him, and pushed her hands back into her pockets.

Only she could make room service sound like a bad thing. Ricky shook his head. "I'll call you tomorrow. I might love room service, but you're not off the hook. I was promised a home cooked meal."

"That you were." Sharon agreed. "You'll get it before you leave, I promise." She backed away from the car and watched as he got inside. When he pulled away, she waved, and watched until she could no longer discern the tail lights from the rest of the evening traffic.

Richard didn't immediately drive back to the hotel. He had one more stop to make. Jackson Raydor was a creature of habit. On those occasions when his wife wouldn't allow him to stay with her, he could always be found in the same place. It was a cheap motel out on the highway, eastbound, which made it only that much simpler for him to disappear when he didn't get what he was after. Richard drove out to the highway side motel before he could change his mind. He found his father's beat-up old Corolla parked outside the motel, and sighed. He supposed it was too much to hope he would have already left town, but then, he was pretty wasted.

Ricky parked his rental and strode toward the room the Corolla was parked in front of. After only a moment's consideration, he knocked. He heard the muffled sound of someone fumbling around inside, and then the door opened. The bleary-eyed face of his father stared back at him. If he wasn't disappointed enough already, the stench of stale booze coming out of the room was enough to get it done. Ricky didn't know what he was expecting really. He gave the man in front of him a bland look.

"Richard William Raydor." Jack leaned heavily against the door frame. "Well, well, well. I suppose your mother sent you. Her supreme highness could not be bothered to lecture me herself, of course not. She has such wonderful little guard dogs to do it for her. Well, you can go back and tell her that I'm not interested. I heard everything that Baker had to say, and it's going to serve her right when I sign those papers. She really believes that her Catholic guilt will be able to stand it, but Sharon forgets that I know her almost better than she knows herself."

"It isn't about Catholic guilt anymore, Dad." Ricky sighed, a little sadly. "Mom doesn't know that I'm here. She'd never let me get within ten feet of you while you're like this. _Almost_, that's the part that I know you're having trouble with. You almost know her. Maybe if you hadn't left, you would understand what's going on with her, but it's way too late to have that talk. No, I just came by to see if you were even going to bother to dry out this time. It doesn't look like it. Do you ever feel guilty about it at all? We made a big deal about how you acted today, and about how you acted the last time, but those are isolated incidents. It was horrible, but it was the entirety of your marriage that was cruel, not just a couple of drunken missteps." Ricky shoved his hands into his pockets and looked at his feet. "One day you're actually going to regret all this. That was the part that always made her feel the most sorry for you. But she's stopped feeling sorry for you. She's stopped waiting on you, and it's no one's fault but yours."

"You think _that woman_ ever waited on me?" Jack's cheeks flushed red. He gave his son an incredulous look and then laughed, bitterly. "I've spent my entire adult life—-"

"I don't care." Ricky cut him off, and realized that he was speaking the truth. At some point, it stopped mattering. "Really, dad, I don't. I've heard it all. The thing is, I was there. Shannon and I saw a lot more than either of you thought we did. What we didn't see, people talked about. We just didn't bring it up with mom because, unlike you, we didn't want to hurt her. We didn't feel some insane need to punish her. That's why you left. You thought that you would really show her. You really thought that she couldn't live without you, and that in the end, she'd beg you to come back, and you'd have everything how _you_ wanted it. The joke was on you." Ricky shrugged. "Mom was stronger than you thought. She outlasted you, and then she moved on with her life. We all did." He ran a hand over his hair and took a step back. "I guess that's all I really wanted to say." He gave the man that had caused so much pain in their lives one last look, and turned his back on him.

"Ricky." Jack took a step out of the room, but his son didn't stop. Instead, he got back into his car and started it. "Richard."

He heard it, but Ricky found that he truthfully didn't care anymore. It was a chapter in his life that he could close now, for good. They had never really needed him, it was an illusion they created out of his absence. They had always managed just fine on their own, and could continue to do so.

Jack stumbled back into the motel room and slammed the door behind him. He made his way to the small, corner table, and picked up the half empty bottle that was waiting for him there. He lifted it to his lips, but stopped. A roar echoed off the walls of the room as he twisted, throwing it. The glass shattered against the far wall, and the cheap, brown liquid ran down the ugly, yellow wallpaper.

His own son had turned his back on him. It wasn't any great surprise, but he never expected it to actually happen. He always told Sharon the kids didn't want him, and it looked as though he was right. Jack shoved his hands into his hair and stumbled toward the bed, where he sank heavily onto the thin mattress. He hung his head and allowed his shoulders to slump. His own son had shamed him. It did more to push through the fog of cheap booze than any of the lectures he could have gotten from Sharon or that lawyer of hers. When he thought about it, it wasn't the first time it had taken his son to get through his booze soaked brain.

_He had used his old key to get into the house. Jack was surprised that it actually still worked. He had only meant to have a drink or two, just enough to celebrate that he__'__d won the poker tournament. The money would be enough to pay back some of the debts that Sharon had struggled to deal with on her own. She had done some rearranging, though, and he had tripped over a new table near the stairs. It was enough to bring Sharon downstairs. _

_At that point, Jack had laughed. __"__What kind of cop carries an old baseball bat instead of a gun?__" _

_She hadn__'__t appreciated that. Sharon glowered at him. She shoved her hair back from her face and tugged on the hem of the old Berkley t-shirt that she had gone to bed in. She leaned the bat against the wall near the stairs. __"__The kind that has two small children and didn__'__t want to take the time to get it out of the lock box. Jack, what are you doing here? It__'__s the middle of the night, and__…__. _Oh my god_.__" __Sharon drew back from him then, a look of disgust on her face. __"__Are you drunk?__" _

"_Not so very drunk baby.__" __Jack stumbled around to sit on the last few steps of the stairs leading to the second floor of the house they__'__d bought when she was still pregnant with their first, and reached for her. He slipped an arm around her hips and drew her to him. __"__I always liked you in that. It__'__s hotter than that little blue thing you got after we had Ricky.__" _

"_Jack, get off__…" __She twisted in his arms, but even drunk and clumsy, he wasn__'__t a small man. Not very tall, by any means, but he was always a little broad across the shoulders and chest. The drinking hadn__'__t been very kind to him, neither had the gambling, she supposed. He wasn__'__t as lean as when they__'__d first married. __"__Jack.__" __She wrenched his grip away from her waist when he drew her down. The smell of cheap liquor turned her stomach. Sharon shoved him back from her, hard, and stood up. __"__I think you may have forgotten, you don__'__t actually live here anymore,__" __She said coldly, voice dropping an octave. __"__I__'__d also appreciate it if you would keep it down. The kids, although you only recall their existence when it is convenient, are asleep upstairs.__" __She folded her arms over her chest and huffed. __"__What do you want?__" _

"_So now a man has to want something to want to see his wife?__" __He continued to grin, crookedly, up at her. __"__Oh come on, don__'__t be so depressing, Shar. I told you that I would come through for us, and I did. Hit it big this time, well, not _too_ big, but it__'__s enough. We can pay off a few things, put aside some funds for the kids. You know, like we talked about.__" _

_She couldn__'__t really believe that she was hearing this. As though he thought a little money would fix all of their problems. __"__Eight years ago. Like we talked about eight-years-ago Jackson. A lot has changed since then. You__'__ve been gone for three years, Jack. Three years. You__'__ve hardly called at all, and suddenly, you think that you can just waltz right back in as if nothing__'__s happened? It doesn__'__t work that way. Before that, you were gone a year before I had even so much as a single call, it was six months before we saw you again, and then you were only here long enough to ask for money.__" __Sharon told herself that she wouldn__'__t cry, she really would _not_. When her voice hitched, she pressed her lips together and shifted where she stood, shuffling her feet nervously. He__'__d left her with only a note, two small children to care for, and barely enough in the bank to cover the mortgage, much less anything else. _

_She was forced to make compromises, to do things which left a foul, bitter taste in her mouth. Such as asking her parents for money when she thought she might actually _lose_ the house. It hadn__'__t seemed to matter that all she was asking for was her own trust fund, the fund they__'__d frozen when she married Jackson because they didn__'__t agree with the choice. After it was done, they expected her to make the best of it. They believed that she was marrying much too young, that she was making a mistake. That Jackson for all his big talk and even bigger dreams wouldn__'__t be able to care for her the way she deserved. Sharon hadn__'__t wanted to hear it. So she married Jack, despite her parents freezing her trust fund in an attempt to dissuade her. They wouldn__'__t take the embarrassment of having her run off to marry the interloper, so she__'__d had the wedding, in front of their friends, family, and priest. Then Sharon took a job they did not agree with so that she could help pay Jack__'__s way through Law School. Her parents were big on expressing their disappointment. They were even bigger on learning from mistakes. They weren__'__t cruel about it. They expressed their opinions, and then allowed their children to make their own choices. They just expected that their children accept those choices, live with them, or learn from them. _

_After Jack left, Sharon tried very hard to pretend as though nothing had changed. It was difficult, with a toddler and a first grader, and a job that demanded long hours which could sometimes be unpredictable. She relied on friends as much as she dared, and in the end, it just wasn__'__t enough. Admitting that she needed help was a bitter pill to swallow, it hurt almost as much as Jack__'__s leaving. She made the transfer into Internal Affairs first. The position offered hours that were far more stable, and the promotion had come with a bump in pay that helped, but didn__'__t exactly plug the dam. There was more going out than coming in. Jack left her with a mound of debts, and they were behind on the mortgage. Her car was barely holding it together. Naturally, he had taken their decent vehicle when he left. He certainly had to make sure that he made it to Vegas in one piece. Forget that she needed to get their children to and from school and daycare. _

_The more Sharon thought about it, the angrier that she became. It was humiliating, admitting that her parents were right all along. Of course they were. She took only enough out of the trust fund to get caught up, and pay off the house. If nothing else, she would never fear that her children wouldn__'__t have a house over their heads. She got the car repaired, it had a few miles left in it, and then she__'__d opened savings accounts for the kids. The rest, she left in her parents hands. She couldn__'__t trust Jackson, that was the most humiliating part of it all. She never thought she__'__d have to admit that, even if it was only to herself. Now that Jack was here, she couldn__'__t even muster the slightest bit of excitement at the prospect. Instead, she just kept wondering what he wanted this time. _

_Sharon shook her head and turned away from him. __"__Go away, Jack. It__'__s late. I don__'__t want you waking the kids, and I__'__m really not in the mood to fight with you. I__'__m exhausted. Shannon has a cold, and it__'__s just not a good time.__" _

"_Come on Shar, don__'__t be like this.__" __Jackson pushed himself up from the stairs and walked after her. He caught her arm and pulled her back to him. __"__Look, I screwed up. Is that what you want me to say? I__'__ll say it. Come on, baby. Didn__'__t you miss me, just a little?__" _

_Her brow arched. She glanced at his hands, again holding her waist, and looked up at him again. __"__At first, maybe. Then I stopped. That__'__s the thing about people when they__'__re gone. Sooner or later, you get used to it. What were you expecting Jack? You__'__d show up here with a little money, and I__'__d be grateful? What am I meant to do here? Swoon? I am neither desperate for your time nor your money. Nor am I the least interested in having your drunken hands on me.__" __She shoved them off, again. _

"_Who is he?__" __Jack stood back and straightened his tie. __"__You__'__re pretty damned desperate alright, to get me out of here. So which one of those bozos from the station are you screwing? That__'__s what__'__s going on here, isn__'__t it? What__'__s the matter baby, did you get lonely? Maybe you__'__re forgetting a little something, aren__'__t you? This is still my house. Those are my kids, and you__'__re my wife.__" _

_She laughed. It was the most ridiculous thing that she__'__d ever heard. __"__Now you want to be married? Now you__'__ve got a house, kids, and a wife? Convenient isn__'__t it, how we exist when you choose for us to. Otherwise, what do you tell people Jack? How do you justify the fact that you left us. Or do you actually admit that? Have you ever actually told anyone that you walked out, or is it just one wild justification after another. Being married certainly hasn__'__t stopped you from sleeping around, I don__'__t see why it should stop me. Like you said, it gets lonely.__"_

_He wasn__'__t sure if it was the words, or the sarcasm. Or that she__'__d laughed at him. Jack felt the anger snap, and this time when he reached for his wife, his hands curled around her arms. He held her tightly, and the pounding of his own blood in his ears drowned out the sound of her head thudding against the wall when he slammed her against it. Then he shook her, until her eyes opened. __"__You think I wanted to leave?__" __He yelled at her, spittle dampening her cheeks. She blinked and turned her face away, and he shook her again. __"__What was I supposed to do, Sharon, with you nagging me all time time. Always with the constant nagging. Do you really think anyone would blame me? Who would want to live with that? Huh? Who!__" _

_She inhaled sharply. His fingers were biting into her arms, and she was beginning to see stars. The smell of the liquor on him made her stomach churn, and pitch violently. Her eyes were wide when she looked up at him. They__'__d had their share of yelling matches when the drinking and the gambling became too much. He__'__d never touched her like this before. Throw things, slam doors, but it was relegated to inanimate objects, never her or the kids. Not that they fought in front of the kids to begin with, not when she could help it. __"__Jack,__" __she could barely manage an astonished whisper. _

"_Daddy?__" __The sleepy voice at the top of the stairs almost made her panic. _

_Sharon cast a frightened look at the stairs and drew a worried gasp. __"__Ricky, go back to bed, baby. I__'__ll be right there to tuck you back in.__" _

_He came halfway down the stairs, rubbing his eyes with one hand, and yawning widely. __"__Mom? I heard yelling.__" _

_At ten, Ricky stood almost at her shoulder. He was well on his way to being tall, like the men on her side of the family, rather than stocky like his father. __"__Richard. Bed. Now.__" __Sharon__'__s voice shook, but she tried hard to keep him from coming further down the stairs. _

"_Did I hear dad?__" __He stopped, still far enough up that he couldn__'__t see beyond the bottom of the second floor landing. He had to stoop, to see into the living room. What he saw would stay with him for years, but the pale, frightened look on his mother__'__s face indicated this wasn__'__t just another argument. They weren__'__t just yelling at each other again. His mom was trapped against the wall, with her feet barely even touching the ground. __"__Dad?__" __He looked at them, wide-eyed. _

_It was the shock that loosened his grip. Sharon shoved against him when she felt his fingers go slack. She stumbled at first, but strode quickly toward her son. __"__Dad can__'__t stay, pal. Come on, let__'__s go back to bed.__" __She grabbed Ricky__'__s shoulders and turned him. She cast a look back, over her shoulder, and there was promise enough in her gaze that if Jack wasn__'__t gone when she came back down, he would wish that he__'__d never considered coming by there tonight. _

He left. The moment she disappeared up the stairs with Richard, he left. He wasn't sure if it was the ice in her gaze, or the fear in his son's. Jack left money on the table beside the door, where Sharon kept her keys, and left. He'd come here, to this motel, that night. It was where he went when he couldn't go home. He'd drowned his sorrows in more liquor, and the next morning he left. He drove back to Las Vegas, where he stayed. The papers found him there. His wife had filed for legal separation, severing him from her life in every way that she could without taking that one, final step. It was a line she wouldn't cross. For twenty years they'd lived on that line. He came and went as he wanted, never staying long. Sharon wouldn't let him. She never looked at him the same after that night. It was years, really, before she started offering him the use of a sofa, or a spare room. Jack couldn't say that he'd stayed sober after that either, he'd slipped, more than once. He always slipped. Whether it was the booze or the cards, it always happened. But it never mattered, something had gone cold in her that night, and it stayed cold. At least where he was concerned.

Something had obviously changed. Twenty years, without even a hint to the contrary, and now she was filing for divorce. _Now_ she was crossing that line. Jack figure that he probably could have dealt with it if it had to do with the kid, or the job, or even the fight they had last time he was in town. Finding out it had something to do with another man… That turned out to be more than he could accept. He'd crawled into a bottle for the first time in years. It wasn't as easy on him as it used to be, he wasn't as young as he used to be, and the booze hadn't been very kind over the years. He knew before taking that first drink that he would regret it, for more than just the hangover that would set in once he stopped. Now, he had other reasons to regret it.

He could blame his wife, but was there really any point in that now? Soon enough, she wouldn't be his wife anymore. Then he would have only himself to blame, and really, he supposed he always had.


	4. Chapter 4

Break-up Advice - Chapter 4

by Kadi

Rated: T

* * *

She never intended to allow herself to become attached. It was flattering, really, the attention that he paid her. The way he watched her when he thought no one noticed. She felt the heat of his gaze, and more than once, she watched his brown eyes darken with interest. He was trouble. Sharon knew that more than anyone. Andy Flynn had an FID jacket miles thick, and he'd caused her more than one headache in that department. Now that she was his boss, the headache hadn't necessarily gone away, as it had changed. He was only too helpful now, and if not for his sincerity, she would have questioned his motives. Then it was with some amount of alarm that she realized exactly what his motives were. The man had a reputation, and here he was, interested in her of all people.

Sharon had every intention of ignoring it. Not completely, of course, because that little thrill that shot through her every time his eyes flickered to her legs was a little rare for a woman her age. Hell, who was she kidding, the man was out of his mind, but there it was. Then Jack swept back into her life, making her feel cheap and embarrassed. The very last thing she needed was to give in, even a little, to the attraction that was quite mutual - when she was honest with herself. She never should have been honest with herself, that was the beginning of it all. Once she acknowledged that Andy wasn't the only one with wandering eyes, it seemed to become inevitable.

There was the wedding. For a woman intent on keeping a lid on this thing that was blossoming between them, she had a funny way of showing it. She just couldn't stand the thought that he'd worked so hard all those years to correct the mistakes he'd made, only to make another, bigger mistake by missing his daughter's wedding. Maybe if Jack's visit hadn't been so fresh in her mind, she could have offered advice instead of volunteering herself as his _buffer_.

Gavin was right, they could say it was anything but a date, but who were they kidding, right? Then there were the lunches, how many times had he taken her out for a meal with someone who wasn't a sullen teenager? Then, after the security detail was in place around Rusty through the entire ordeal with the letters, he'd drop by with dinner. It was just takeout, but it might as well have been a full course meal.

He took her to the ballet, and that was just so awkward and embarrassing. She went along with it, mainly because she had a hard time saying no to that boyish half grin of his. Sharon realized that she was doomed, but there was very little that she could do about it. Or rather, there was very little that she _wanted_ to do about it. That was the real problem. Her desires were beginning to overpower her common sense.

Going to bed with him was _completely _out of the question, but she knew, even as she left his bed that first time that it would happen again. That was even before the pep talk she got from Gavin.

Now, weeks later, with her lover moving around her bathroom with as much ease as he would his own… it was easy to recognize the inevitability of it all. The moment she acknowledged that not only was his attention flattering, but that she found him equally as attractive, it was simply bound to happen. As those who cared about her had a penchant for saying, she wasn't made of stone. There were things that Sharon needed. Simple human contact was one of them, and so she hadn't exactly lived a life devoid of sex, even if she was very selective.

A casual fling was the last thing she wanted at this stage in her life. Which was precisely the reason that she resisted it for as long as she did. At least, she liked to think that she was resisting it. Sharon glanced at Andy in the mirror, where she stood drying out her hair. She had _borrowed_ one of his white, v-neck t-shirts. The hem barely reached her at mid-thigh, and rode up a little higher every time she lifted her arms. Her skin was flushed, both from the shower and the heat of the blow dryer. After another minute, she turned it off and put it back on the vanity side rack. She ran her fingers through the thick, dark locks and turned, a smile playing at her lips as she walked back into the bedroom.

Sharon felt his eyes following her as she made her way around the room, picking up discarded clothing and dropping it in the hamper. She was finding it rather amusing that more and more of his things were finding their way to her apartment. She didn't even bother separating them out any longer. His things went into the hamper with hers, and when she was finished, she climbed into bed and got comfortable with a book, while he finished setting out the next day's suit. Sharon watched him from the corner of her eye, amused at the ritual. Her teeth tugged at her bottom lip in amusement. It was no wonder that he was always so well dressed. It was quite the ordered process. To think that people called her neurotic. They really had no idea.

She tugged the hem of the t-shirt down and got comfortable, pillows stacked against the headboard behind her back. That she thought it was adorable he was spending so much time on the choice of which tie to wear with the charcoal, three-piece suit and the dark blue shirt, rather than wondering how so many of his ties had managed to end up taking residence in her closet, gave her pause for only a moment. Sharon shook her head and gazed at him over the top of her glasses. "The red one." She flipped a page in her book, and lowered her gaze to the novel again. It was one of her favorite suits. He always looked good in bold colors. From her periphery, she saw him lift the tie against the suit and shirt again, and then purse his lips in thought. Sharon laughed quietly. She closed the book and folded her hands in her lap while he continued to weigh his options. "For a boy from Jersey who used to be quite the trouble maker, you do spend an awful lot of time accessorizing."

"I have to look good," He draped the red tie over the hanger holding the suit and put the others back in the closet. "It's my boss. It only works in my favor when she's distracted. Evil woman. Misdirection is the key." Andy moved around the room and stopped to plug in his cell phone before he joined her on the bed.

"Is that right?" The corners of her mouth twitched. Sharon opened her book again. "Well, I have it on good authority that your boss is far more impressed by what you're _not_ wearing."

"See, I told you." Andy shook his head. "Evil woman. All those hours of careful planning, wasted. I could have just gone to work naked."

She chortled happily. "Oh, I'm sure that would have gone over very well." Sharon glanced at him again and shook her head. "You spent more time picking out a tie, than it takes me to pick out heels in the morning."

"Of course I did." He leaned back and tucked his hands behind his head, getting comfortable. His legs were crossed at the ankles, and he was simply enjoying watching her. "You'll wear those three-inch danger pumps that you wear all the time lately, because you know they drive me insane." Andy loved to watch the way her eyes flickered, then lit with amusement, even when she was attempting to conceal it. The corners of her eyes crinkled, and she gave him barely a sideways glance, even as her lips pursed in her attempt to prevent a smile. "You'll probably wear one of those short, little black skirts with them, or god forbid, that red dress. I can usually measure what kind of day I'm going to have by the length of your skirt. Above the knee… it's going to be painful, but damn, it'll be worth it. Below the knee, well, you're just just trying to tease me. If it's pants, then I know you're feeling spiteful."

"Fascinating." She couldn't quite curb the amusement in her tone, even when she tried to give him a long, calculating look. "It really is very interesting that you can plan the course of your entire day around what I will or will not be wearing. Although, you should probably know…" Her voice dipped, falling to a low hum, as she leaned over him. "My decision to wear pants doesn't usually stem from a need to be spiteful, but rather it should be an indication that I just didn't feel like shaving my legs."

"You should look at that from my point of view." Andy reached up and slipped his hand into her hair, to cup the back of her head. "Spiteful." He drew her down, the kiss soft, lingering. When she giggled against his mouth, he smiled. Andy marveled that so few ever got to see her as he did. They already knew that she was a strong woman, incredibly independent and undoubtedly stubborn. Intelligent went without saying, and she seemed to manage the administrative side of her job with very little effort. They had seen, as a mother, how fiercely protective she could be, and through Rusty, they had first glimpsed that softer, emotional side. She was also, as Andy had come to know her, funny, with that dry sort of wit that they both had in common. She was passionate and vulnerable, and had at first, seemed easily spooked by the idea that someone might actually want _her_. She could compartmentalize like no one else that he knew, but moved effortlessly between them, shifting from friend to mother, or from boss to lover, with hardly any notice at all. He had learned to spot that subtle shift, and could define it now by a look, or a change in body language.

Andy tugged the book out of her hand and placed it on the table beside him. Her glasses followed. Then he pulled her to him, curled an arm around her shoulders and drew down to lay against him. His hand swept down her back, to rest against her hip. When his fingers encountered smooth skin beneath the edge of the t-shirt, he groaned. "Evil, spiteful, witch." He felt the laughter rumbling in her chest before the throaty sound reached his ears. When he looked down, her eyes were lit with mischief.

"Don't complain," she said at length, with a teasing upturn of her lips. "You love it." She settled her head against his shoulder and let her arm drape across his stomach. She curled a leg through his, laughing again when he hissed at the feel of her cold toes against his calf.

"No, not it." The hand of the arm curled around her shoulders moved into her hair and cupped the back of her head. He tipped her head back and gazed down, another emotion glittering in his dark eyes. The encounter with Jack had left her open and raw, he could still see it in the vulnerability that had her eyes widening, just for a moment, and her teeth tugging at her bottom lip. His other hand caressed the long expanse of smooth skin from hip to knee, and kept her tucked snugly against him. Andy would have liked to have been there, so that he could have dealt with the idiot himself, but this was a far more enjoyable endeavor than any his troublesome temper could come up with. He bent his head and brushed her lips, tracing them until he felt her relax again. Andy lifted his head, just to gaze down at her again, and smiled at the softer look that had settled over her.

It was left hanging in the air between them. Sharon lifted her hand to his face, fingers feather light against the curve of his jaw. His ties were slowly invading her closet, and yet it never failed to surprise her when his eyes followed her with the deeper emotion. Knowing how hot his emotions ran, it really shouldn't astonish her that he would love just as fiercely, but it always took her breath away, for just a moment. Then she could lose herself in the lighter, golden tones of his brown eyes, and the rest would fall away. Her hand slipped down his chest and came to rest above his heart. "I know," she murmured quietly.

Sharon wriggled closer and ran her lips from jaw to ear in a light caress. Her teeth nipped playfully at his ear. Her tongue traced the curve of his earlobe. She felt the shudder run through him and smiled. Her leg slipped higher, bare inner thigh sliding across the harder muscles of his leg in a way that made her breath catch, and his grip on her tighten. Her own hand was sliding lower, and finding the edge of his t-shirt, it moved beneath. Her fingers skirted across bare skin, the heat of him had her fingertips tingling. He was such a furnace, and she reveled in it. Sharon's hand curled against his chest, she could feel the flutter of his heart beneath her palm. She felt the jump and catch when her low, throaty voice caressed his skin with a quiet, "Love you."

Andy's fingers gripped the back of her head, drew her back to his mouth. The kiss was deep, a mingling of breaths and soft noises as rolled her onto her back and settled over her. His hands pushed into her hair and held her head cradled. With his weight balanced on his elbows, he drew back to gaze down at her. The heavy lidded eyes, the slightly swollen lips. She wound those enticingly long legs that he adored so much around him, causing the corner of his mouth to lift in a half smile. He was struck again, by the incredulity of it all. That he would be here. With her. Like this. She was wound around him in more ways than just the physical. He had always thought her attractive, and that had frustrated him, that he would be distracted with thoughts of her beauty when she was reading him the riot act for some transgression or another. She was frustratingly stubborn, deliberate in everything she did. He couldn't count the number of times in years past that he tried to push her, tempt her toward temper. Thoughts of what she'd look like with passion lighting those alluring green eyes had driven him near to madness. There were times when he was simply cranky, and others when he was downright rude with her. It was no wonder he was driven to anger when she transferred. To be faced with her everyday, and know he wouldn't be able to control the direction of his imagination. He had thought her cold, aloof. She had seemed so dispassionate, intent on getting her way, surely, but he attributed that to her stubborn streak. Now he knew better. She could be wildly wanton, driving him to madness in a number of other ways. Playful and loving. Determined in everything she did.

His head lowered, lips much softer this time, barely a caress at all. She drew a shuddering breath, and it trembled through her. He knew. There was an ache that went so much deeper. She had been bruised, but not broken, she was far too strong for that. Andy's lips teased her, feather light against the corner of her mouth, her cheek, and her closed lids. "Sharon." Her eyes fluttered open, and he was met with so much emotion that it was more fool him for ever thinking her devoid. He had no reason to doubt her, he knew the unpleasantness had shaken her, brought everything she thought buried back to the forefront. They were much too old for the insecurities of youth. That wasn't what bothered her. She would worry for a man that she had once loved, even when there was nothing she could do, and when she had to turn away to preserve anything that might remain. "Don't hide," he said quietly. "Any man that would walk away from you is a damned idiot." The answering light in her eyes, joy tinged with sadness and regret. She would find her balance again, no one would ever know how keenly she ached for the past, even as she embraced the future. Here with him, there was no reason to hide it. "Someday," he said thickly, against her ear, "I'll have to thank him." He felt her arms and legs curl tighter around him, and when their lips met again, he tasted the salt of her tears. If he could do nothing else, he would love her hurt away.

Her neck arched when his lips drifted downward again. His hands swept beneath the t-shirt, drawing a sigh from deep within her. She had seen him bare knuckled and seething with fury, but his hands danced across her skin with such lightness, so gentle it stole her breath. When his tongue traced the hollow of her throat, and his teeth grazed across her collarbone, she sighed his name. Sharon thought of the ties invading her closet, and wondered at how simple it would be to make room for more, for just a moment, before his mouth slipped lower and she stopped thinking completely.

Hours later, Sharon woke to some undefinable sound. Andy was still wrapped around her, and she lay, ears pricking toward the sound. When it came again, she eased from beneath the arm that was draped across her and slipped off the bed. She scooped up one of their discarded t-shirts and drew it over her head before pulling on her robe and tying it. Sharon glanced back at the bed, smiling when Andy grumbled quietly and pressed his face into her pillow. When he didn't move again, she shook her head and slipped quietly from the room. In the hall, the sound became more discernible. She heard the quiet clank of a cup, and the sound of someone coughing and trying to be quiet about it. Sharon ran her fingers through her hair and padded barefoot through the apartment. She glanced at the clock on her desk as she walked through the living room. It was incredibly early, or very late, depending on point of view. Only just after one in the morning.

She found Rusty in the kitchen, coughing into his elbow again as he stirred honey and lemon into a steaming cup of tea. He jumped, only slightly when she placed her hand against the back of his neck, before moving it to his forehead, and gave her a pitiful look. "Oh Rusty, why didn't you tell me you were feeling ill?"

"Believe me, if I thought I was sick, I'd say something." He cleared his throat and lifted the cup to his mouth. "I thought it was just the smoke blowing down from the hills above the Palisades. But I woke up and felt like crap. Who wants to be sick right before graduation?" He gave her a miserable look. "Did I wake you?"

"I was thirsty," she lied. Her fingers swept beneath his chin, probing gently. "Do you still have your tonsils?" His glands were swollen, and she would guess that it was just a cold, but was trying to remember what had been in the copies of his medical records that she had received from DCFS.

"Yeah," he said hoarsely. "It's not that. I'm just all scratchy and ugh." He made another face and trudged toward the living room.

Sharon chuckled at the eloquence of the sick teenager. "Probably just a cold then. We'll get you in to see a doctor in the morning. Come on, back to bed." She lay a hand against his back and maneuvered him down the hall to his room. She stepped into the bathroom across the hall, and opened the medicine cabinet. Inside she found a box of cold medicine and carried two of the capsules back to him. "Take these, it should help you sleep if nothing else."

"Yeah thanks." He was seated on the edge of his bed, rubbing his nose with a kleenex. She dropped them into his hand and he sat there for just a minute, holding them before he tossed the pills back and followed them with tea. "Do we _have_ to go to the doctor?" He gave her a slightly pleading look, and wasn't surprised when it got him nowhere. "Fine."

"Go back to sleep, Rusty." She swept a hand over his hair, always careful with how much or how little affection she showed him. Too much and he became uncomfortable and awkward, too little and he worried that she was upset with him. They were still working to find their balance in the aftermath of all the drama and turmoil which had previously surrounded them. He rolled his eyes at her and she smirked.

She was almost to the door when he called her back. "Hey, Sharon." When she turned, Rusty's gaze fell to study his cup. "If you wanted me to stay, I could. I don't have to go to the dorm."

Surprise drew her brows together. She turned away from the door and folded her arms over her chest. "Rusty." She walked back over and sat on the edge of his bed. "If you don't want to move into the dorm, stay because it's what _you_ want to do, not because you think that I need you to." Her hand brushed his arm, careful now because he was fidgeting, and she knew he was struggling with his own uncertainty. "You've got a couple of months before you need to make a decision." She sighed softly and tilted her head at him. "Rusty, you aren't moving out," she reminded him. "You're going to school. This will still be your room. You aren't rid of me that easily."

"Oh well," He rolled his eyes at her. "Foiled again." But he chewed on the corner of his lip and and picked at the rim of his cup. "It's just a little weird. I feel like you fought so hard to keep me here, and now it's over, and I'm leaving. It seems almost…" He shrugged, unable to name it.

"Hm." She hummed, understanding why it would seem so odd and confusing for him. "I suppose. The thing is, it wasn't the location that we were working to keep. It was your home, and it still is. Someday, not too far into the future, it will just be this place that you visit because you know that if you don't I'll come looking for you. Rusty, when you first came here, I lived alone. By choice, and I told you that the spare room was for my children, when they visit. Someday, that will be the case again, with the exception that you'll know it's there for you as well as the others. Okay?"

He nodded, but the future still felt like this uncertain, abstract idea that he couldn't quite wrap his mind around. "Okay," he said finally.

"This is normal, you know." Sharon stroked his arm, because he'd settled and would welcome it. "Ricky and Shannon both went through it. He changed his mind so many times before he finally felt at ease with going away, and that was to Northwestern. You'll be a few miles away at USC. With Shannon, she was going even farther. She wanted to dance, and I wanted her in school. We found our compromise, but it meant that she would be in New York. She could have stayed closer, but I wanted the best for her, and I want the best for you too, Rusty. When you're ready to move away, you'll go. It won't be easy, but it isn't supposed to be. And it isn't going to be tomorrow." He sniffled, from the cold, she knew. And she wondered, when he reached for another tissue if he'd managed to worry himself sick. She supposed not, she'd have noticed. It was that he felt ill that he was worrying at all. His barriers were down, and his mind was wandering. In another day or two, the excitement would set back in. Graduation was just around the corner. It was rather sweet that he was worried at leaving her behind, but then, that was normal too. This wasn't her first trip down this particular road, and at least they'd finally reached some level of normalcy. "Now go to sleep."

"Okay." He rolled his eyes at her again and lay down, feeling better, at least about the whole leaving thing. "It's not really the same this time," he said, drawing a questioning look from her as she moved toward the door again. "Not like you'll be living alone again." This time, it was Rusty that smirked, even as he pulled the blankets up to his chin and burrowed into them.

"Good night, Rusty," she said pointedly, and reached for the door, pulling it closed behind her. She heard him laugh, then cough. Sharon moved down the hall to the kitchen, she retrieved a bottle of water and carried it back, not surprised to find him already asleep. She left the bottle on the table next to his bed, beside his tea and retreated again.

Sharon eased quietly back into her room and shed the robe. She checked her alarm before sliding back into bed. She'd send Flynn to work, but call Provenza herself with the news that she would be in after seeing Rusty to the doctor. Andy had rolled, sometime after she left, was now facing the opposite side of the room. She curled against his back, but this time mumbled a quiet apology when her feet against his legs made him jump. He muttered in his sleep, but found her hand where it lay against his side, and drew her closer. She pressed a kiss to the back of his shoulder and closed her eyes. No, she supposed she wouldn't be living alone again after all.


	5. Chapter 5

Break-up Advice - Chapter 5

by Kadi

Rated: T

* * *

"Sharon."

"I know."

Rusty was standing beside her. The two of them were staring. Her head was tilted, just slightly, and there was an almost glazed look in her eyes. He nudged her again, with his elbow. "_Sharon_."

"I _know_."

They looked at each other, and then faced forward again. Rusty rubbed a hand across his forehead and peered at her from the corner of his eye. "You didn't see it before?"

"Do you think I'd have left?" She slanted a look at him, questioning for the first time, in a very long time, if he knew her at all.

"Good point." Rusty tilted his own head. "He never mentioned that?"

"Obviously not," she said drily. Sharon pressed her fingers against her lips and hummed. "This is…"

"Ginormous?" Rusty squinted at her.

"Use your words, dear." She was having trouble finding her own.

"Massive?" He ventured. "Enormous? Strangely obsessive?" Rusty had to nudge her again. "Sharon."

"Don't be unkind." She sighed, if he didn't stop, she was going to have to rethink all this unconditional adoration she had for the boy. Well, no, she wouldn't, but she would think of something. "Rusty, _please_."

"Sorry." He shrugged. "You look a little weird. I'm just trying to make sure you keep breathing. Every few minutes, your lips turn blue." Rusty smirked at her, suddenly gleeful. "You know, Sharon, it is just a closet."

She cut a look at him. "Someday, when you understand that there is more to life than jeans and hoodies, you'll understand."

Rusty leaned toward her, voice pitched low. "His ties are color coordinated."

"So are my pumps," she murmured back.

"Well, I never said you weren't weird." Rusty turned and walked away.

Sharon looked skyward and took a deep breath. "Rusty, I love you, but…"

"You'll ground me until I'm thirty if I don't mind my 'tude. I know." He leaned against the open doorway and smirked at her. "You are a little weird. You can't ground me for telling the truth. You're standing there drooling over a _closet_."

Sharon had stopped at Andy's bungalow on the way home to pick up the ball cap and tickets that Andy needed for the weekend. Since he was coming from the opposite side of town, and picking up dinner, she was making the stop for him and would meet him at the condo. It was an old, 1930s California Avalon, a mixture of wood, brick, and cement. She had been there before, but was obviously far too occupied to pay much attention to the layout or the rooms. It was a beautiful structure, but at some point, one of the three bedrooms had been remodeled. Probably when the old house was modernized, if the kitchen and bathrooms were anything to go by. All of the plumbing had been replaced, and the appliances updated. The room next to Andy's had been turned into an office, and half the space sacrificed to enlarge the closet into what was now a massive walk-in with built in shelving.

Rusty, bored with waiting, had followed her. He found her staring, and honestly if he understood he wouldn't be able to blame her. It was easily three times the size of her own closet, and as they made their way back toward the front of the house, she marveled at the well kept hardwood floors. The house was nestled back from the road, on a corner lot of an older, quiet neighborhood. She recalled Andy mentioning that he'd bought it at auction after his divorce. He hardly spent anytime there at all now, and she could count on one hand the number of times she had been in the house.

Sharon followed Rusty out and used the key Andy had given her for just this purpose to lock the door behind them. It was moderately sized, but the rooms were large and airy. The kitchen looked out over the back yard with wide, mostly unadorned windows. At the front of the house was the living room and a formal dining that stood empty for lack of need. The garage was detached from the house, but there was a covered walkway between it and the side door which lead into the laundry room behind the living room.

Rusty shook his head, where he stood waiting beside the car. "You've got that look. You're thinking about something. You know, Sharon, move in with a guy because you like him. Not his closet," he teased.

"Rusty." Her eyes narrowed. "I understand that you're still flying high from graduation, and you think that you're all grown up now, but I can still make your summer incredibly—"

"Boring and unbearable," he said. "Yes I know." He rounded the car and got in on the passenger side. When she joined him, and thrust the ball cap into his hands, he sighed. "It's baseball."

"It's a graduation gift," she reminded him. "You're going to be gracious, polite, and you'll have fun whether you like it or not." Sharon glanced at him and pulled the car away from the curb in front of Andy's house. "You need to enjoy normal things. Life isn't all about chess and music videos."

"How come you're not going then," he tilted her head at him.

"The tickets are for you, Andy, and Lieutenant Provenza. The gift is from them, and, they're doing it as a guys thing." She waved a hand dismissively at him. "It isn't about me, they did it for you. They're sharing something they enjoy. So you'll be nice about it."

Rusty rolled his eyes in that way that only teenagers could. "Of course I'll be nice about it, but it's _baseball_." He leaned his head back against the seat. "Why couldn't they like hockey."

Sharon smiled, but shook her head at him. "_Rusty_."

"I know." He heaved a sigh. "I'll be gracious, polite, and I'll enjoy myself whether I want to or not."

"Good." She turned her attention back on driving. "And the only thing I was thinking was whether or not the condo association would allow me to expand my closet into your room so that it looked like that."

This time when he rolled his eyes, it was in disbelief. "Right. Of course you were."

"Well, you have to admit," she laughed. "That was—"

"I'm sticking with strangely obsessive," he said.

"_Rusty_."

He laughed. "You really are a little weird."

"Wait until you see what Gavin got you for graduation." She smiled, altogether too gleefully.

"_Sharon_." Rusty sank down in his seat with a groan. Suddenly, baseball wasn't looking so bad. "Why is it, that I'm suddenly having visions of being the only college freshman whose dorm room is decorated in Burberry." The evil chuckle it drew out of her didn't make him feel any more secure.

"Gavin wouldn't do that to you," she promised. "It would be Vera Wang at the very least." He groaned and she laughed.

Rusty's gaze shifted to the passenger side window. He watched the neighborhood sliding away as they headed toward downtown. Graduation had come and gone, and it wasn't as bad as he had feared. It wasn't the edge of a chasm that he was going to drop off of. He still had time to decide whether or not he wanted to live in the dorm, but it wasn't seeming like such a horrible thing anymore. He was starting to look forward to it. That change had come when Sharon had given him her gift. The envelope had waited on his bed when he returned the next morning, from all the various celebrations and parties with his friends. It had contained the title to the car, the one she kept for her kids when they visited, the one that he'd driven these past several months, except now she told him they were more than capable of finding their own transportation. She didn't want any excuses out of him about visiting, or how he'd get _home_ each break and holiday. So she had given him the car.

There had also been adoption papers, dated to last summer, after everyone found out about the letters. She told him she'd done it to stop Emma from having him taken from her, although they hadn't been filed. They hadn't needed to. It was up to him now. He could file them if he liked, he was an adult now. If he didn't, it changed nothing for her. She would still think of him as her son, and he would always have a home with her. When or if he was ready to try again, they'd find his mother, if that's what he still wanted - with or without any papers. She knew that she wasn't a replacement. Rusty had laughed at that, not in cruelty, but he had looked at her and chuckled. "_No,_" he had said. "_You__'__re here._" She saved him, protected him, and put up with all his crap even when he was being especially terrible, and he knew that he _had_ been terrible. He was absolutely horrible to her in the beginning. He pushed, and he pushed, and he tried to make her leave, but she stayed. His mother couldn't even get on a bus, but Sharon broke down a door in her bare feet. His mother had never broken down a door for him. She'd locked a few of them in his face, however.

Sharon wasn't his mother, she was _nothing_ like his mother. That was a good thing.

He knew that she wasn't trying to replace her, they were way beyond that. No, that wasn't what the adoption papers were about. That was Sharon protecting him, _again_. Now it was her giving him a home. Because she knew that he felt all awkward and uncertain about leaving, even if it was just to the dorm for a few months. He'd be back at Christmas, then off again for a few more months. He'd live with her during the summer months, but there would come a time when he wouldn't. It wasn't an abstract, she was giving him something tangible to hold on to in a future that could go in any direction. She gave them to him because he needed them. It was about him, not her.

Rusty had given them to Gavin. His eighteenth birthday had changed things, and the forms which were needed. The lawyer had giggled like a child as he worked up the necessary changes and gave them to him. Rusty had given those to Sharon. It wasn't for him. It was for her. "_I know where my home is_," he told her. "_You might forget._" That was a week ago. Nothing had really changed, save having a tangible security blanket that made the future a lot less scary.

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "You know," he said finally. "If you love the closet _that_ much…" The look she aimed at him made him laugh. "I'm just saying."

"I think you've said enough on the topic," Sharon informed him, but it was an indulgent smile that graced her lips.

"Just trying to be supportive," he smirked at her.

"No, you're fishing for information that you know I won't give you," She replied.

"Fine." He squinted at the road in front of them. "I'll ask Flynn."

"Rusty." Sharon sighed. "Even if I ground you, you're still going with Gavin."

His shoulders slumped. "It was worth a try."

She laughed at him. "Yes, but you will be polite, you will be gracious, and…"

"I will enjoy myself whether I want to or not," he intoned with her, while rolling his eyes. "I got it."

"Good." She glanced at him and shook her head. "Then I'll take you back and we'll exchange what you really do not like. Don't worry, I've already had a very long talk with Gavin. Just… call me if he takes you anywhere near Dior, and I'll come get you."

Rusty giggled. "Sharon, if he takes me anywhere near Dior, I'll make a run for it."

"See," she pointed out. "It won't be as bad as you think, and I can trust you to think sensibly."

"Did you remember to call Shannon back," He changed the subject.

"I did," she nodded. "Her father has been calling her again. Now that the divorce is final, he's wanting to, I don't even know. I'm not even sure that Jack knows. It's not important, because Shannon isn't going to talk to him, but it's hard for her. She feels disconnected, she's on the other side of the country, so everything she's heard has come second and third-hand. It's nothing to worry about," she assured him. "Shannon was feeling a bit dramatic about the entire thing, but she's settled down now."

He nodded slowly. Things calmed back down after Jack showed up, but it had still turned out to be an interesting few months. "So, Ricky tells me that I should join a fraternity. He says I'll be guaranteed parties and girls… he doesn't know that I—"

"Not if you haven't told him," Sharon replied. "It isn't my place, Rusty." She smiled gently at him. "Honestly, I don't feel that its anyone's business but yours. It's up to you whether or not you tell anyone."

"Doctor Joe said that you'd say that," he smiled. After the hearing, and once all of that was over, he'd gone back to see the psychiatrist. They'd kept up with sessions for a few weeks, at least until Rusty felt steady on his feet again.

"I'm sure he did." She skirted around downtown, not wanting to face that traffic this time of day. "Rusty, what have you told people about my relationships?"

"I haven't," he said knowingly. "Because it isn't any of my business. It's up to you whether or not you tell anyone." He rolled his eyes at her. "You're so predictable, Sharon."

"Yes, I know." She smirked.

Rusty leaned back and sighed. "So, about this game…"

She shook her head and braced herself. "Yes?"

"They're not going to make me wear a hat are they?"

Sharon glanced over at him, and there was such concern in his gaze that she laughed. "No, they won't make you wear a hat. I'll draw the line there for you. Your hair is safe."

"Thank god!" He heaved a sigh of relief that was greatly exaggerated.

Sharon glanced over at him and laughed again. He could be such a normal teenager that it made her heart swell. He had come so far.

Much later, after dinner had been consumed, Rusty sat at the bar idly drumming his fingers. "I have to ask the question."

Sharon glanced at her lover and shook her head. _Here we go_, the look said.

"What is with all of the color coordinated ties?" He turned on his stool and fixed the Lieutenant with a look. "You have to admit, that's weird."

"So are your color coordinated hoodies," He pointed out, not even bothering to look away from the report he was paging through.

"That's not my fault." He pointed at Sharon. "Clashing is apparently evil and must be avoided."

"Don't pull me into this." She got up and walked into the kitchen with her tea cup. "You're the one that has issues with it. I thought it was fine."

"Well, you're weird too." Rusty got up and walked toward his room. "I can't imagine why anyone would need _that_ many shoes, much less enough to keep them coordinated."

"He's still young," she observed. "I try not to hold it against him."

"You're doing remarkably well," Andy remarked. "Personally, I think the kid spends too much time with Provenza. He's starting to sound like him."

Sharon snorted. "I hadn't noticed. It's not as if _he's_ actually seen the inside of my closet, so—"

"That just sent me to a horrifying mental place." Andy tossed the case file onto the coffee table and leaned back, loosening his tie. When she walked past the sofa, he snatched her arm and tugged her down. He pulled her legs into his lap and slipped his hands down to begin rubbing her feet. "What's with the fascination with my ties?"

"Rusty." She rolled her eyes. "It's more about a fascination with your closet. You understand that it isn't normal for a single man your age." Her brow arched. "Now, a single man Gavin's age…"

Andy snorted. "Trust me, the house came like that. The only thing I messed with was the kitchen. The couple that had it before spent too much on remodeling, when the guy lost his job, they couldn't make the mortgage, and obviously couldn't afford to finish the remodeling project. Their loss, my gain. I finished the kitchen, left the rest as it was."

"You're all heart, Andy Flynn." She shook her head at him.

"I know." His fingers traced the delicate lines of her ankle. "So what about it? It's just a closet." He arched a brow at her.

Sharon laughed. "Now that sounds more like you." She shook her head. "Nothing, we were just struck by the enormity of it." She rested her elbow against the back of the couch and propped her head in her hand. He stopped rubbing and she flexed her feet against his hands.

"Demanding witch," he teased and began digging his thumbs into the ball of her foot again. "I suppose it is a bit absurd. Just means it's got plenty of room." His brows bobbed at her. "Maybe instead of leaving my ties all over your closet, it's time you left your shoes all over mine."

"Hm." Her lips pursed. "Yes, but then I'd hate for them to feel abandoned. You're never there." Her fingers combed casually through her hair. "You're always here. I'm always here. It would be an awfully long way to go just to pick up a pair of shoes before work."

He cut his eyes toward her and shook his head. His lips pursed in amusement. "I suppose you have a point. I'd never be able to make it through the day knowing that I had deprived myself of those little, beige stilettos. It would be horrible. I'm feeling mildly panicked just thinking about it," he droned out.

Sharon snickered. "Yes, I can see that." She dropped her hand and leaned her head against the side of the sofa. "It would end up being quite the ordeal for you. Not nearly as bad, I think, as if it were, say, the black ones." She snapped her fingers at him when his hands stopped, and wriggled her foot again. "Uh uh, rubbing. You get the benefit of my wearing the Jimmy Choos, I get the benefit of the foot rub. We had a deal."

"Yeah, I'm rubbing, I'm rubbing." His fingers danced up the inside of her foot, causing her leg to jerk and drawing a giggle out of her. "See what you made me do. Patience." Andy tilted his head at her. "You know, I could think of solution to our little problem."

"Oh?" She leaned back and pushed a throw pillow beneath her head, reclining against the side of the sofa. "What did you have in mind? I thought it was fairly straight forward. You rub, I benefit. I'm not seeing problem there." Her lips pressed together, he shot another glare at her and it was all she could do not to laugh. She wasn't trying to be purposefully obtuse, but he was such an easy target at times. So adorable in how he huffed and shook his head, or tugged on his ear if he was particularly perturbed at her.

"It occurs to me," He looked straight ahead. "You really can be a pain in my—"

"Now Andy…" She grinned at him. "That isn't new." Sharon's eyes sparkled with mischief and amusement. "I'm sorry, honey, what's your solution?" She sat up and curled her hand around his wrist, stilling his hand for the moment. Her other lay against his thigh, stroking gently. "Hm?"

His eyes narrowed. "I don't think I want to tell you now." He sniffed, but when she pouted, he looked skyward and sighed. "I take it back. _Troublesome_ demanding witch." Her brows went up and she shrugged playfully, causing him to shake his head. "My partner warned me about girls like you."

Sharon laughed. "Actually, I think your partner warned you about me, period." She moved closer, and inched into his lap. "Good thing you didn't listen."

"I'm starting to wonder about that," He said drily, teasing. His hand settled against her hip when she moved into his lap. "It's a simple solution," he told her. "Move in. The shoes will love it." He watched her eyes widened, and just as easily as she had settled across his lap, she was out of it. Andy leaned forward and let his arms rest against his knees. She was going to pace now. He was probably going to end up dizzy. Yes, his partner warned him. This should be interesting.

All joking aside, it wasn't what she expected from him. The thought had occurred, along the opposite side of that coin, he was at the condo all the time anyway. She didn't mind, she rather liked the idea, but oddly enough the idea of moving in with _him_ gave her pause. Sharon paced the length of the living room, in font of the sofa. The fingers of one hand rubbed across her brow, while the other flexed and relaxed in a constant rhythm in time with her steps. "Did your partner mention any warnings about recently divorced women?" When his brows simply lifted, she huffed.

"You tapin' our conversations now?" Andy's gaze followed her. "Are you tryin' to tell me that this," he gestured between them, "had not even the slightest thing to do with you getting divorced? You can try, but I'm not sure that I'm going to buy it. You were still a married woman when it started. You might be willing scratch an itch or two, Sharon, but I know you. You weren't going to get _involved_ while you were married." Her head whipped around and his eyes rolled. "You're not an oak. You feel, you want. There's not a damned thing wrong with that. You weren't looking for a casual fling. Well, neither was I. Unless you've changed your mind?"

"Of course not!" She flung a hand in his direction. "But let's be logical about this. We shouldn't go rushing in to anything." Sharon chewed on her bottom lip. She wondered if Rusty had put him up to this. No, that was absurd. She supposed, the writing was just on the wall. It was rather obvious, one of them was going to have to move in _somewhere_.

"Rushing?" Andy ran a hand over his face. "Babe, I've been trying to get you into bed for over a year. I don't think rushing is anywhere near the equation." He simply smirked back at her when she glowered.

Rusty came to an abrupt halt at the end of the hall. His face screwed up. "Ew." Two heads turned toward him, and both sets of eyes widened. "Seriously? Come on, we had this talk. Somethings should not be spoken in public. The living room is public." He wrinkled his nose again, but pointed at Sharon. "She okay? She's turning a little purple."

"She'll be fine," Flynn leaned back on the sofa. "She's going to pace for a while. Sorry kid."

"What did you do?" She was looking oddly agitated, Rusty had to admit. He edged toward the kitchen and took the apple that he had come to fetch out of the crisper.

Flynn shrugged. "Asked her to move in. Don't worry about it, it's a process." His head leaned back.

"Huh." Rusty tilted his head at her and took a bite of the apple. "You're really weirded out about that aren't you? What's the big deal?"

"Oh no," Sharon pointed at both of them. "You do _not_ get to gang up on me."

Teenager and man looked at each other and shrugged. Rusty walked over and dropped into a chair, deciding that this concerned him, and it was amusing to watch. "Who's ganging up? I Just asked a question. It's just a house." He leaned over the side of the chair to look past where she stood between them at Flynn. "Unless there was a ring too? Because she is looking _seriously_ weird."

"Do I look like an amateur to you?" Flynn rolled his eyes at the kid. "Get her moved in first, nice and comfortable, _and then_ spring the rest on her. Kid, you're killin' me here." He leaned forward again, hands falling between his knees and shook his head.

"What? You broke her, I was just trying to figure out how bad." Rusty took another bite of apple.

"She's not broken," Andy said, with some amount of frustration creeping in. "It's a process. Just, be patient."

"Like you?" Rusty snorted.

"Oh hush, both of you," Sharon tossed her head and started pacing again. "You've lost your mind," she pointed at Andy, "and you, don't talk and chew," she told Rusty. Her teeth drug across her bottom lip.

"It's really more about the space," Andy said calmly. "I mean, I could move in here, but I've got Nicole and the boys. You've got Rusty, Shannon, and Ricky… this isn't that big a space. What are going to do when the brat—I mean, Rusty visits?"

"Hey." He frowned at him.

Andy shot a look at him and motioned him to be quiet. "The part you're missing, is that my garage has a loft over it. Big enough for a small apartment space. I use it for storage, but most of that crap probably needs to be thrown out anyway. God only knows how long it's been up there. The kid comes to stay and he doesn't have to worry about walking in to uncomfortable conversations. Then there's the yard. We toss the rugrats out the back when they get on our nerves, everyone's happy."

"You're really all heart, Andy." Sharon stopped pacing and planted her hands on her hips. "It might escape your notice, but mine are a little old to be tossing into the yard," she hooked a thumb at Rusty.

"I was talking about Nicole's dancing duo, but you know, that's the beauty of it. He'll have his own place above the garage. We toss him out the front and not the back," Andy said. When she folded her arms across her chest and began to look mildly relaxed, he smiled at her. "Then there's the closet. Explain to me how we're going to get all our stuff in here? We're not getting rid of any of your shoes. I wouldn't survive it."

"Again with the ew," Rusty made a face at him. "Dude. Really?"

"Dude," Andy replied, just as sarcastically. "You helping or not?"

"Okay," Rusty leaned back and waved a hand, motioning him to carry on.

Sharon whirled on him. "_Rusty_."

"What? He had me at garage apartment." Rusty tilted his head and smirked at her. "You knew I could be bribed. Why is this news to you? Why is this news to her," he asked Flynn.

"False sense of security, you don't know your own strength," he deadpanned.

"Sharon, what is the big deal," Rusty asked again. "Either you go there or he comes here. It's going to happen. _Everyone_ knows that it's going to happen. I've got twenty bucks riding on it happening before I move in to the dorm at the end of August," he said. "Ricky is expecting you to hold out until the holidays. Shannon has you pegged by Halloween. Frankly, I think I should get home field advantage."

"Not a good move," Andy pointed out. "But the kid gets points for using game lingo."

"_What_?" Sharon ran a hand through her hair. "You've talked about this with Ricky and Shannon?" Rusty had her attention now. "When did that happen?"

"We email," He shrugged. "You wanted us to get along. Don't make a thing out of it now. So what's it going to be?"

"Rusty." She sighed. "I don't think this is a conversation that you should—"

"Nope." He pointed at her with the hand holding his apple. "Thirty day agreement was never rescinded. Besides, if we're moving, I think that pretty much, automatically, makes it a _family_ conversation." He nodded. "Mmhm, yep."

"Suit yourself," Andy shrugged. "I was about to tell her about the shower. The couple who had it before me put in this big, double glass thing, but there's this bench on one side just great for—"

"I'm out of here." Rusty moved hastily down the hall.

Sharon watched him go, brow raised. "Well played."

Andy stood up and dug into his pocket and pulled out a coin. He tossed it to her. "Flip it," he said.

Sharon caught it, on instinct, but stared at him as though he'd grown a second head. "What?"

"Flip the coin," he said more slowly. "You heard the kid. Here or there. Makes no difference to me, it really doesn't." He moved to stand in front of her. "I got what I want."

She chewed on the corner of her lip. "It is a nice closet," she said slowly. "And that built-in shelving on the east side…"

"Shoe heaven," he said with a shrug. "Here or there," he asked again.

She supposed that it was only a matter of logistics. It really wasn't going to be easy to combine two households into her condo, and then there was the combination of two families. That was quite a lot of people, then add their friends into the picture. The condo was already feeling overcrowded just thinking about it. It had been perfect when it was just her, or her and Rusty. Sharon reached for his tie and tugged him toward her. "And if I flip the coin and it's here?"

"We'll go a little crazy trying to make it all fit, but we'll get there." His hands moved to her waist, and he held her loosely. She tossed the coin onto the coffee table and shook her head at him. "You had me with the closet, you know that right?"

"You are vain and materialistic," he nodded. "Why do you think I had you drop by there today? I was going to ask you eventually. My own forgetfulness just helped the cause and the timing works out great for Rusty."

"Hm." Her arms slid around his neck. "My own children are conspiring against me."

"Yeah," He shrugged. "It was bound to happen. You wanted them to get along," he teased.

"Oh shut up," she leaned up and kissed him.

"If it helps," he mumbled against her mouth. "Provenza has twenty on it never happening." He smirked when she scoffed.

"Poor thing, he's going to be so disappointed," she said, sounding not in the least sympathetic.

"You have no idea, he probably hasn't cracked that wallet open in over six months," Andy drawled. "It will be the squeak heard around the world."

Sharon snickered. "You are horrible." She leaned back from him. "You understand I have to go yell at my kids now."

He stepped back and gestured down the hall. "By all means. Enjoy."

"Hold that thought," she kissed him one final time and started down the hall. "Rusty!"

Andy chuckled and moved to lean against the back of the couch, legs crossed at the ankles. He'd make it up to the kid later, since he'd helped out. She was never boring, that was another thing he could add to all the little facets of her personality he had learned. Deliberate, predictable, but never boring.


	6. Chapter 6

Break up Advice - Chapter 6

by Kadi

Rated: T

* * *

"When you agreed to help," Andy grunted, "I don't recall there being a lawn chair in the equation." He shifted the box of books he carried and cast an unhappy look at his partner.

Getting his lover to agree to move in with him had, in hindsight, been the easy part. Actually deciding the when and all the other little details had taken much longer. In the end, Sharon decided that it was ridiculous to move Rusty to one location, then move him to a second one when he moved in to the dorm. They'd waited until August, using the weekend before the kid was set to move in to his dorm room before they did the bulk of the moving. It worked out, it had taken that long to get the place ready, given the nature of their jobs and their often unpredictable hours. After weeks of packing, sorting, and several trips to Goodwill and the Salvation Army, the day had finally arrived.

Movers had done the bulk of it, moving the furniture they were keeping, and hauling out what they were not. The rest, they were furnishing together. They wanted to keep her sofa, and the chairs that went with it. His dining room was unused, so they were keeping that furniture as well. All of the furniture from Rusty's room was staying, and the loft over the garage had been emptied out in advance. The bedrooms would be completely refurnished, they would do that together, although they were keeping his bed for the meantime. Anything else was small pieces, and there would be time to go through it. Once they were moved in, of course.

"I am helping," Provenza reached into the cooler at his feet and took out another cold drink. He popped the top and leaned back, enjoying the shade of his little umbrella. "I'm supervising. You obviously need supervision. Therefore, I am here to keep my eye on the colossal mistake that you are making."

"I can hear you." Sharon walked by, and was met by Buzz who took the box of dishes out of her hands. He had offered to help, since they were giving him the living room furniture Andy wasn't keeping.

"He wants you to hear him." Sanchez walked by with another box, a smirk on his face. Offering to help had been a no-brainer for him, especially given the fun that should be had with the Lieutenants bickering. "There's nothing you can do about his complaining here, ma'am."

"I'm sure the movers left some tape around here somewhere," Flynn scowled. They were really only moving the items they hadn't wanted the movers to touch. Clothes, dishes, and other personal items.

"Hm." Sharon smiled. "What a wonderful idea. I can't possibly get in trouble for taping his mouth shut here." She clasped her hands in front of her and rocked back on her heels. "Buzz," she called in to the house. "If you see any tape laying around…"

"Now, now," Provenza shook a finger at her. "You can't glower at me like that on my day off. Also, I'm pretty sure taping my mouth shut falls under an excessive use of force. We'd have to call it in, there'd be an investigation…"

"Is he serious?" Sharon looked up at her lover. "Really?"

"The heat?" Andy shrugged. "At his age, it does odd things to you."

"I suppose that must be it." Her lips pursed. "Otherwise, he'd remember that I have a definite _in_ when it comes to FID."

"Mark my word," Provenza stated. "You're both going to regret thi—what is that?" Rusty was pulling a large box up the driveway toward the house. It was almost as big as he was.

They looked over and smiled. "Shoes," they both said.

"Good god." The older Lieutenant shook his head. "You're both insane."

"You're telling me." Rusty looked up, gratefully, when Buzz came to help him. "This is just the first one."

"How many of those could there possibly be!" The old man stared, aghast.

Sharon shrugged. "Just the two." She turned quickly and walked in to the house, intent on unpacking as the boxes came in.

His hand smacked against his forehead. "I don't believe it! The crazy witch has almost as many shoes as you have ties! Insanity!"

"Hey." Andy scowled. "Watch your mouth." He started toward the house with the books.

"Yeah," Rusty smirked as he and Buzz followed. "When he calls her that, it's foreplay."

"Rusty." Buzz shook his head. "Don't get drawn in. They're old and cantankerous. It's best if we avoid the drama."

"Hey!" Provenza yelled after him.

"It's his day off too," Rusty called back with a grin.

Andy carried the box to the living room and stacked it with the others. "Tell me again why we let him come over?"

Sharon laughed. "I think _let_ could be the wrong word. Do we ever _let_ him do anything? He's here for moral support." She was carefully unwrapping dishes as she took them out of a box, and tossing the discarded bubble wrap into an empty box.

"Is that what we're calling it?" He stopped behind her and pressed a kiss to her neck.

"Well," she smiled. "I refuse to acknowledge that he's supervising anything, so yes, that's what we're calling it."

"Moral support it is," he nuzzled her neck. "I could get used to this." Her hair was pulled back in a clip, giving him access to her neck.

"Hm." She chuckled. "You're not supposed to be in here playing with me. I'd suggest getting back to work before Mr. Moral Support catches you and has a stroke." She moved his hands away from her and gave him a light, playful shove toward the front door.

"Yes ma'am," he tossed off a salute.

"Can I stay here and play with her?" Sanchez smirked at him.

"Julio." Flynn caught his shoulder and shoved him ahead. "Don't make me shoot you. The boss frowns at that kind of thing, you know."

"Then tell her not to wear shorts on moving day," he tossed back with a grin.

Andy glanced back and smirked. She was wearing an old pair of cut-offs, they weren't obscenely short, but he was enjoying them. "Hell no, keep your eyes off my girl's legs."

"Too late," Sanchez jogged back out to the truck, laughing.

A dark red sedan pulled to a stop along the curb in front of the house as Andy pulled another box of dishes out of the truck and passed it to Sanchez. When Ricky got out of it, he pointed him toward the house. "She's inside."

"Nice," he slipped his sunglasses onto his head and took a good, long look at the house. He followed him up the walk. "Mom never was one for lawn ornaments," he said, pointing at the old guy in the chair.

"We're getting rid of a lot of things," Flynn grinned.

"Oh great," Provenza drawled. "Satan's spawn thinks its funny."

Ricky laughed as he walked into the house. "Ma, you've been making nice again, I see." He looked around and followed the sound of her laughter. "Nice place."

"Hey," she smiled widely. "Two visits in six months," she held out her arms when he neared. "I got lucky."

"I completely goofed out on the last moving day. I wasn't going to do it again." He lifted her off her feet when he hugged her. "I came to work, where's the kid?"

"Hiding." Sharon laughed. "He's reached his gross factor for the day. He's voluntarily unpacking my shoes."

His brows shot into his hairline. "Wow, what did you do to the kid?"

"They were checking out her legs," Buzz supplied as he walked by.

"That will do it." Ricky nodded. "Can I just add, ew. I think I'll join him."

Sharon rolled her eyes at him. "Nice, very nice. Thank you."

"What? It's the yuck factor, mom. Lots of yuck." He nudged her as he walked by, going in search of Rusty. He found him, muttering under his breath as he stacked shoe boxes on a shelf in a closet that was as big as his first apartment. "Damn," Ricky said, turning in place once he stepped inside.

"It was a deciding factor," Rusty informed him. "Are you hiding?"

"Definitely." He walked over and peered into the box. "She's got an addiction, you know that right?"

"I'm not sure that it's just her." Rusty pulled another shoe box out of the much larger moving box. He pulled the top off, stuck it underneath, and placed it on a shelf. "It's a thing, just don't ask."

"Oh, I learned that one a long time ago." He walked over and opened another, similar box, only to find more shoes. "Wow." Ricky shook his head. "Obviously her condition has gotten worse."

"That's nothing compared to them." Rusty shook his head. "Serious ew."

"Very." He was purposefully not color coordinating them. It would drive his mother mad later. Ricky grinned. "How did they find this place?"

"It's Flynn's," Rusty said. "He bought it a long time ago." He glanced over. "You're okay with it right?"

"It's a nice house." But Ricky smirked. "It's cool, mom's been alone a long time. My dad was, is, a massive DB. I'd say it was okay as long as I didn't have to kick his ass for being a jerk, but she'd beat me to it." He took the lid off a box of very slinky stilettos and shook his head. "I'm not going to ask."

"It's usually better when we don't," Rusty said.

"Yeah." Ricky slanted a look at him. "So, any bets on when they're getting hitched?"

"Dude. Really?" Rusty shook his head. "My ears are still ringing from the last time we played that game."

"Proximity," Ricky pointed out. "You'll be in the dorm next week. The sound doesn't carry as well over the phone."

"Oh. In that case…"

When the last box got moved inside, Provenza took his cooler and followed it. He found a comfortable armchair and resumed his role as supervisor. "A little to the left," he gestured as a picture was placed on the wall. The look his captain shot him made him grin. He smiled back, gleeful, and gestured with his hand again. "Do you want it to end up crooked?"

"Of course not." She shifted the picture to the left, as directed and then took a step back. That would do. "Just keep in mind, I can't say anything to you _today_."

He lifted his drink and toasted her. "What happens off-duty, stays off-duty," he drawled.

Andy lay his hands on her shoulders and propelled her forward. "There's one in every family," he reminded her.

"Lucky me," she said, with no small amount of sarcasm.

"Just remember, if you shoot him—"

"They'll give me a medal?" She smiled, only too sweetly, up at him.

"After that," Andy said.

"I'll have time to plant a garden?" Her eyes sparkled with amusement.

"_After_ that," He continued, sighing.

"Honestly, I'm still not seeing a downside here," She smirked.

"Let's go." He turned her and marched her away from his partner. Andy grabbed her purse and put it in her hands. Her sons had taken over unpacking the dishes when they finished with her shoes. "We're taking the truck back," he announced. "We're picking up food. Everyone behave." He pointed at Rusty. "Keep an eye on him," he hooked a thumb toward his partner.

"What am I? The Provenza sitter?" Rusty shook his head.

"Hey!" The lieutenant yelled. "Watch it, young man. I can hear you."

"I know." Rusty unwrapped another glass and set it on the table.

When they heard the truck's engine fire and pull away, they waited another minute for the sound of Sharon's car to join it. When the sounds faded, Provenza launched himself out of his chair. "Alright, they're gone, let's do it."

Rusty snickered. "She's going to kill you."

Ricky looked around as the others of his mother's team stopped what they were doing and joined the older man. They followed him outside to his car. "What am I missing?"

"You do _not_ want to know." Rusty just shook his head.

"This isn't going to be one of those guilt by association things is it?" Ricky arched a brow at him.

"Probably." Rusty set another glass on the table. "Don't worry, we're definitely going down with them."

"Oh good." He unwrapped a plate. "So, if we're screwed anyway…"

"Might as well get a front row seat." Rusty left the dining room and headed toward the other side of the house.

Sanchez and Provenza returned, carrying a large box each, while Buzz held the door for them, another box held against his side. The boys watched with interest as they dropped the boxes onto the coffee table and sofa and began unloading the contents. Rusty bent at his waist, laughing.

"I don't get it." Ricky walked over and picked up one of the twelve inch, porcelain figurines. "Mom hates this movie. Why is this funny?" He glanced at Rusty, holding the intricately painted porcelain Scarecrow.

"Your mother is the wicked witch," Provenza held up the center piece to his little _gift_, the green faced witch, complete with hat. He tugged it down over her head. "Don't worry, she'll get it."

"Where did you find all of this?" Rusty picked up the little wood plank house.

"Little shop over in Venice Beach," Provenza explained. "They had the whole set, it was going out of business, so I got them cheap."

"Of course you did," Sanchez laughed. He tossed the lion to Buzz and reached into his box for another.

"I got them forever ago, and I've been waiting, _patiently_ for the opportunity to bestow this work of art upon hers truly."

"It's an inside joke," Buzz explained for Ricky, who was still looking confused. "They used to call her the Wicked Witch, complete with illustration on our Murder Room's white board. Now it's more of an… affectionate monicker."

"Affection has nothing to do with it," Provenza shook his finger at him.

"Of course not, Sir." Sanchez held up a little flying monkey. "Flynn," he nudged Buzz.

"Obviously." Buzz rolled his eyes. "Where are you going to put it all?"

Provenza looked around and spotted the mantle. "There." He walked over and began taking down the baseball memorabilia that he knew the Captain would move anyway. Rusty took it and moved it to a shelf in the corner of the room, while he and the others arranged his _gift_ on the mantle. When they were finished, Provenza stepped back to admire their handy work. "There." He rubbed his hands together gleefully. "It's perfect!" The witch had a prominent spot in the middle, with the monkey at her shoulder.

Rusty snapped a picture of it with his phone. "No one will ever believe you otherwise," he explained.

"Send me a copy of that," Buzz asked with a grin.

"Me too," Sanchez said.

"I'm sending it to the entire team," Rusty told them. "Except Sharon and Andy, of course. There, it's away." He laughed. "You are all in for it." He turned and headed back to the dining room.

Provenza went back to his chair and his cooler, while the others got rid of the evidence. They flattened the boxes and put them with the others. He whistled a merry tune and reached for the remote.

Ricky glanced at his _brother_, "Is he whistling _Over the Rainbow_?"

Rusty's lips pursed. "Probably."

"They're all a little crazy," he observed.

"Yep," he grinned. "They're pretty great."

They were gone for just over an hour, and returned laden with bags of food for the crew. There was the choice of sub, salad, or burgers for those so inclined. They arrived to find the dining room and kitchen completely unpacked, dishes in the cupboards and hutch. The boxes of books remained, but Sharon had a system for those and they weren't really urgent. The boxes got stacked along one wall out of the way. She could unpack and organize those as she found time.

Clothes and other personal items had been coming over for weeks, so there was little which remained in the bedroom or attached bathroom. It was simply a matter of cleanup and organization now, all of which could be done in good time. The bulk of it was complete. For which they were immensely grateful.

Rusty had sorted through his own belongings as he packed them at the condo. What was remaining in his loft was unpacked and situated. The rest remained in boxes, locked up in his car, in the garage. It would make the trip with him to the dorm, along with those items which had been purchased to furnish the room.

The group gathered in the living room to eat. It was Andy that spotted the new additions to the decor first. The witch caught his eye and he stopped. He backed up and turned toward it. His head tilted. His eyes closed. Andy's gaze swept the room, Buzz wouldn't meet his eyes. Sanchez was staring at his fries, shoulders shaking lightly. His parter looked right at him and smirked.

"What?" Sharon held out his salad. His look was one of mixed amusement and something she couldn't quite name. Resignation, perhaps? "Andy?"

He took the salad from her and shook his head. "I don't think I can even begin to explain."

She gave him a puzzled look, and when he moved, she saw it. Sharon blinked several times. She strode slowly to the mantle to get a good look. Her lips pursed. She reached out and lightly poked the hat sitting atop the green-faced doll's head. "I see."

Provenza's jaw clenched. He took a deep breath before he managed, only barely without laughing. "It would be rude not to bring a house warming gift."

"Hm." She slanted a look at him. "Yes, I suppose it would." Her lips twisted toward something that might have been a smile. She picked up the flying monkey and considered it for a moment. Then she replaced it all and shook her head. "Well played, Lieutenant."

Sanchez turned away laughing while Buzz snickered.

"Just remember," she said sweetly. "I always get even."

"I still don't get it," her son said.

"Well, now that Flynn is here," Provenza stated. "We can tell you the story… he started it."

Andy looked skyward and drew a breath. "You know, if we're really honest about it… _she_ started it."

"We were just minding our own business," his partner said. "We'd been doing okay for a while, then all of a sudden, here comes FID poking its—or rather her—nose into everything, every time we turn around."

"And not being very nice about it," Andy admitted.

"It was not _that_ bad," Sharon huffed.

"Ma'am." Sanchez shook his head at her. "It was bad," he said.

"This one gets fed up," Provenza hooked a thumb at his partner. "Decides to make a little doodle on the murder board."

"You added the broom," Andy reminded him. "Buzz drew the house. It was not only me."

Sharon's eyes widened, she looked at the tech. "Buzz!"

He shrugged. "It wasn't a good day."

She leaned back on the sofa with a sigh. "I was only doing my job."

"Uh huh." Sanchez snickered. "That's okay, we forgive you."

"We started calling her the Wicked Witch because she'd fly in on her broom," Andy said drily, "wreak a little havoc, and then fly right back out again. It was mainly because she _enjoyed_ wreaking the havoc."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Only a little."

"A lot," he fired back.

They stared at one another until she conceded. "They were just so easy." She had to smile when the guys laughed.

"But then she saved our asses," Andy reminded everyone.

"So now it's all, mostly, an inside joke," Julio added.

"Mostly?" Sharon arched a brow at him.

Julio shrugged and pointed at the older Lieutenant. "He's cranky."

"And now Flynn has gone and inhaled the fumes," Provenza snarked. "There'll be no living with him from now on."

"Nope." Sanchez sighed. "We've lost our viewing pass for the show," he nodded to her legs. "I think I'm depressed."

"Yeah," Buzz slumped beside him.

"Aright, knock it off." Flynn tossed fries at both of them. Her face had gone a shade of red that was decidedly scarlet. He leaned over and kissed the side of her head.

"Ew." Rusty shuddered.

"Ditto." Ricky looked moderately disgusted.

"Well," Provenza clapped his hands together. "It's been great. But it's getting late and I need to turn into a pumpkin."

"He's mixing his popculture references again," Ricky pointed out.

"He does that." Rusty shrugged. "It gets less confusing when you get used to it."

"Good to know," Ricky wrapped the remains of his sub and stood as well. "I have to get going too. I'll drop by tomorrow." He walked over dropped a kiss on to his mother's cheek.

"Thank you for coming, baby." She stood and walked him out.

They all disbursed after that, leaving only Sharon, Andy, and Rusty behind. Rusty finished cleaning up in the kitchen, then wiped his hands. "Okay, I'm headed out."

Sharon chewed the corner of her lip. "You'll be okay out there?"

"Really?" He made a face at her. "I'm headed over to the dorms in a few days, you're worried about the loft?"

"I'll worry about them too, everything in it's time," She sniffed. "Rusty?"

"I'll be okay," he promised. "It's only a few yards away. You'll be okay in here?"

"Noted." She walked him to the door. "You've got your key if you need inside?"

"I'm good," He promised again. "Go do… gross things. Stop worrying about me."

"I always worry," she called after him. He lifted his hand in a wave and kept walking. She waited until he disappeared inside the garage and the light came on upstairs before she pushed the door closed and locked it. Then she turned and leaned back against it. Her gaze found Andy. "Alone."

"Yep." He walked slowly toward her.

"So, about that shower… I seem to remember something about a—-" She squeaked when he lifted her over his shoulder. Then she laughed. "You're going to hurt yourself."

"Like you weigh anything." His hand landed against her backside. He carried her down the hall to the bedroom, turning off lights as they went. He dropped her onto the bed when he reached it.

She landed with a bounce, still laughing. "You are insane."

"Yeah," his t-shirt was pulled over his head. He dropped it to the floor. "But I'm also getting in the shower. You gonna lay there all night?"

Her eyes narrowed. She scrambled after him, shedding clothes as she went.

The following day was spent cleaning and organizing, cut short when Major Crimes was called in on a case. At the end of the week, they moved Rusty into the dorm. If there was any hesitation on his part, he didn't show it. It was Sharon that got emotional, but they'd expected that. Rusty bore it, reminding her he was only a few miles away, and he'd be dropping in with laundry all the time anyway. Flynn had to draw her away, and it was only after they were gone that it sank in.

He was on his own, again. Rusty didn't mind it this time. He'd brought a piece of home with him. His roommate didn't completely understand the significance of the porcelain witch and flying monkey on the shelf over Rusty's bed, but he didn't care. It was just something to remind him. It might have been a few miles instead of a few yards, but he wasn't alone.

_~FIN_


End file.
